Find A Way
by countmeaway
Summary: In a world where an injury kept Seth from becoming a wrestler, he became a teacher instead. He still loves wrestling-watching it, that is-and a chance meeting with Dean Ambrose turns his life upside down in ways he only ever could have dreamed about.
1. Chapter 1

so, this is the first time I've ever done an actual chaptered fic, and I'm not quite sure how many chapters it'll be just yet. I know how I want it all to go, I just have to get it all outlined. I promise, this will be finished. rating will change in later chapters. starts around early 2015.

disclaimer: i own nothing, only the words written within. title from the used's find a way.

* * *

It's not very often a live wrestling event rolls through any part of Iowa, even non-televised, non-major events, and Seth is a little more than pissed that he's missing it. It's not like he couldn't afford it, or that he didn't know about it, no, it's that he's stuck at work, paper piled high on his desk because he was an idiot and scheduled a fucking test for today of all days.

He's been staring at the same page for what feels like hours, and there's a headache forming at his temples, making his mood even worse. It's late, and it's only getting later, but the tests need to be graded, midterm grade reports due in two days, and of course Seth fucked up when he was doing his lesson plan for the month, left almost no time at all for him to give his in-class lessons, grade homework and tests, and submit grades without wanting to cry.

He blows out a frustrated breath, tosses his glasses carelessly down onto the pile of paperwork, massaging the tips of his fingers against his temples.

Being a teacher wasn't what Seth had in mind when he graduated high school. He'd lived and breathed wrestling as a child, as a teenager, and had grandiose dreams of being a professional wrestler, of being out there and wrestling with the best of them, but a botched landing in the ring of the wrestling school he was enrolled at and a knee that never healed right despite all his rehab and therapy meant he had to figure out something else.

He still isn't sure how he ended up being a teacher, and while it's not wrestling, he does enjoy it. Except for moments like this where he's pressed for time, headache pounding behind his eyes, hindering him from doing what he needs to do.

Seth groans, puts his glasses back on, tries to get through the pile of tests again. He gives up only a few minutes later, pulling his briefcase out from under his desk. He shoves all the papers in haphazardly, not caring that half of them get crumpled in his haste.

The clock reads just after 5:00, and Seth groans again. He didn't realize it was already that late. He grabs his phone and his keys from the top drawer of the desk, shoving them into his pockets, briefcase held in a tight grip as he makes his way out of his classroom, down the halls and out to the parking lot, not surprised to see his car is one of the few still there.

It takes him longer than he has patience for to get home, pulling into the driveway of his house. It may not look like much from the outside, exterior starting to chip and peel in places, but it's big and homey, has more space than he knows what to do with, and the best part is that it's his and he loves it, and it helps that he has his small dog to come home to, making it feel less lonely, less empty.

Kevin is already yapping up a storm by the time Seth gets the door unlocked and open, and he sets his briefcase down in favor of picking him up, cuddling him to his chest as he closes and locks the door behind him.

"Hey, Kev," he says, scratches under his chin, laughing softly at the way Kev keeps trying to attack his fingers. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I missed you, too."

He carries him through the entryway, the living room, unlatching the sliding patio door in the kitchen and setting Kevin down, shooing him to go do his business while Seth rummages around, trying to find something to make for dinner.

Kevin comes in, circling Seth's feet, barking for a treat, and Seth hands him one distractedly, piling together a sandwich with his free hand.

"Alright, ya little mongrel," Seth says, looking down at Kevin, "go play. I've got work to do."

Kevin trots off, and Seth follows, picking up his briefcase from where he put it in the entryway.

One of the spare rooms is set up as a home office, and Seth settles in there, pulling the pile of tests out and spreading them across his desk.

It's easier here, at home, to get through the pile of them, and it probably helps having food and drink in his belly, keeping the headache to a barely-there throb, and it's just before 7 when Seth finishes putting the final grade into his computer.

Perfect timing.

Seth grabs another cold bottle of water from the fridge, then settles in the living room, volume turned up and tv ready to go.

He doesn't care that he's almost thirty, that he probably should be more interested in something else; he still gets just as excited about wrestling as he did when he was five, twelve, sixteen, and he loses himself in it for the next three hours, lets the drama unfolding onscreen chase away all thoughts of tests and grades and everything else that isn't who's wrestling who, what titles are up for grabs at the next pay-per-view, and what ridiculous bullshit the Authority is up to this week.

Seth has his favorites, of course he does, and sometimes watching them fills him with envy, sadness, thoughts of how they're the same age, how they're doing the only thing he ever wanted to do while he had to settle for being a teacher, but even through all that, he can't stop watching, won't stop watching, rooted to his seat until it's over, shaking his head at how the Authority seems to think their pick as the champion is actually championship material compared to half the wrestlers they've got on the roster.

He's a coward, is Seth's first thought, hiding behind Stephanie and Triple H, surrounded by security guards who probably couldn't fight their way out of a paper bag, and the only reason the guy is even champion is because Stephanie and Triple H can't keep their noses out of anything.

That's not the kind of champion Seth would have ever wanted to be, wouldn't have wanted to wear that gold around his waist or over his shoulder unless he had actually earned it himself, no interference or distractions to give him the win.

Some people will do whatever it takes to win, he supposes.

Seth shuts off the tv, takes Kevin out one last time, retreating to his bedroom for the night. It's already 10:20, and he has to be up in six hours to get his daily workout in before he goes to work.

He strips down to his boxers, sets his alarm and crawls into his bed, Kevin curling up at his feet. It's been a long, exhausting, stressful day, and he's asleep before he knows it.

* * *

The gym is mostly empty when Seth gets there, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, feeling more asleep than awake. It's nothing an intense workout won't fix, though, and he sets to stressing, loosening his joints and muscles with a few stretches before he really gets into it, rotating around from machine to machine, music thumping in his ears.

He's on the treadmill, walking to ease the sting in his knee, and he looks up, nearly falling off when he takes in the fact that he's not alone anymore.

No, someone else has joined him, and Seth is stuck between wanting to act like a complete awestruck fan, and running as fast as he can to get out of there.

He does neither, though, focuses intently on the breath in his lungs, the tightness slowly working its way out of his knee, the controls of the treadmill, and it works, for a minute, anyway, eyes drawn to the figure in the corner, the line of his back and the strength of his shoulders, the way he moves and weaves as he throws punch after punch to the bag hanging from the ceiling.

Seth tries not to stare, tries to keep his eyes focused anywhere else, but he can't, eyes sliding back to the lone figure, and he gives up on the treadmill, turns it off and heads for a different machine, one that isn't facing that direction, but he's pulled up short by a voice calling out to him, and his heart starts pounding in his chest for a reason other than physical exertion.

He pulls an earbud out of his ear, slowly turns around and tries to act cool and nonchalant, though he feels anything but. "What's up, man?"

"You mind spotting me for a minute?" Rougher, even more gravelly than he sounds onscreen or in interviews, Dean Ambrose stands in front of him, sweat covering his skin, hair pushed back off his forehead, eyes bluer than blue.

Seth kind of wants to collapse onto the floor. It's not that - no, okay, he's not even going to lie to himself and say it's not a crush he has on Dean because he it is, he does. Has for years, even way back when he was a hot fucking mess, wrestling under the name Jon Moxley.

Dean's been his favorite for years, and Seth wants to cry at the odds of him being here, in Seth's gym, in Seth's town, hours away from where Raw was last night and from where Smackdown will be filmed tonight.

Seth realizes he's staring, again, and he quickly averts his eyes, coughs, says, "Yeah, sure," even though he probably won't be able to finish his own workout now, not if he wants to go home and shower before he goes into work - which he'd really, really love to; no one wants to be taught by a teacher that smells like rank ass body odor all day.

Dean smiles at him, nodding his head in thanks, and motions for Seth to follow him over to the weight bench.

Seth's mouth goes a little dry at the flex of muscle in Dean's arms as they slide the weights onto the bar, and he really doesn't know how he's going to make it through standing over Dean's body while he lifts, not without popping an awkward fucking boner Dean will be staring right up at.

"Thanks for this, man," Dean says, laying back on the bench, hands wrapped around the bar.

"Not a problem," Seth says, gives Dean a smile as he places his hands under the bar, there just in case Dean needs his help.

Dean does a couple sets of reps and Seth tries not to stare, makes himself look anywhere else but at Dean, at the muscles in his arms, the sweat sliding across his skin, the strip of flesh on his belly where his shirt has ridden up, the cut of his hips peeking out over the top of his shorts, and he couldn't be more relieved when Dean finishes his final rep and sets the bar back, all his blood rushing south at the sight before him.

Dean wipes his hands on his shorts, holds one out and says, "Name's Dean."

Seth has to bite back the _I know_ that's on the tip of his tongue. He offers his own hand, Dean's warm and strong and damp against his, says, "I'm Seth," and tries not to groan when Dean pulls away.

"Good to meet you, man," Dean says, and Seth has to be dreaming, must've fallen and hit his head because he's pretty goddamn sure Dean's eyes just slowly scanned up and down his body, almost like he was checking him out.

Which is—that's ridiculous, right? Seth's not an idiot, knows he looks good, works damn hard for his body, but there's no reason Dean fucking Ambrose of all people would be checking him out, especially not now, not when he looks a mess, sweaty and smelly and disheveled.

 _You're doing the same thing to him, though, aren't you?_

But Seth's gay, and Dean's not.

Is he?

Seth knows being out and proud just isn't something that's done in the wrestling world, was told as much when he was still in wrestling school, before his injury, that he could be whatever he wanted to be, but that he shouldn't get his hopes up about making it in the big leagues if he was going to be flaunting his sexuality in front of everyone's faces.

Which, whatever, still pisses him off to this day. How is having a relationship flaunting anything in anyone's face? If they can't handle the fact that he's gay, that's their goddamn problem, not his. He's not going to pretend to be something he's not just to make others feel better.

"Yeah, man, good to meet you, too," Seth says. He glances down at his phone, grimacing when he sees the time.

"Everything alright?" Dean asks, and Seth's eyes slowly flicker up to Dean's, sees how his brows are pulled down in some emotion Seth doesn't even want to try to guess.

"Yeah," Seth says, rubs at the back of his neck. "Just didn't realize the time. Gotta get home and shower, get ready for work."

"Oh." Dean's tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and Seth's mesmerized by the sight. "Well, thanks for your help. Sorry to keep you from your own workout."

Seth waves it off, says, "No big deal. Anything to help a guy out, right?"

Dean's eyes seem to light up at that, like Seth's said some magic word. "Can I have your number?" he asks, and there's no hesitance in his voice, no doubt that he's going to get turned down.

Seth is confused, hopes it doesn't show on his face. What possible reason could Dean have for asking for his number? It's not like he's going to be in town much longer, or like he's even in town all that often. Still, Seth finds himself nodding his head, rattling off his number when Dean pulls his phone out, his own vibrating in the armband he's wearing, a missed call from Dean to give him his number, too.

"I'll call you later or something," Dean says, corner of his mouth quirked up in a half-smile.

"Sounds good," Seth says, a little bewildered. He stands there for a second, two, lets his eyes float up and down Dean's body one more time before he turns and heads for the exit, feeling like this is all some kind of dream.

It's all he can think about all day, and it feels like his phone is burning a hole through his pocket. He hadn't even thought of putting in his desk like he normally does, has it tucked right in his front pocket, and he can't keep himself from pulling it out every few minutes when he can, just to make sure there isn't a missed call or text.

Halfway through the day, he's convinced himself it was all a dream, that he really didn't meet Dean during his morning workout, that he must've had one hell of a hallucination brought on by the pain in his knee while he was working out, until he unlocks his phone and takes in the number sitting atop his missed calls list.

It's there, Dean Ambrose, 5:46 AM, minutes after Seth remembers checking his watch, realizing he was going to be late for work if he didn't get his ass moving.

Still, there's no word from Dean, and Seth stifles a sigh, sliding his phone back into his pocket.

Seth gets through his day, barely, feeling worn thin by the time he gets home. His phone has still been noticeably silent, and he tries not to let it bother him.

He's not sure what he really expected, anyway.

Dean is a busy person, probably barely has time to breathe let alone have any kind of phone conversation, and Seth's an idiot for expecting anything.

Or maybe Dean took the time to think about it and realized pursuing anything with Seth wasn't a good idea. He's primed for a top position in the company, and his focus should be on that, not on any kind of fling or whatever with Seth, and while it felt good to have Dean's eyes on him in a way that felt less friendly and more intimate, Seth knows Dean's career will come before anything else.

It's a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach and Seth chastises himself for it. He spent what, all of ten minutes with Dean? It doesn't mean anything that they exchanged numbers. Hell, if Dean wanted to, Seth's sure he could make a call and get his number changed in the blink of an eye. He doesn't owe Seth anything.

Seth's jerked out of his pity party by Kevin whining at his feet, and Seth scoops him up, settling him on his belly. "What's your problem, little guy?"

He runs his fingers through Kevin's fur, appreciating the comfort and companionship he brings.

It's not like Seth doesn't have any friends that he could spend his time with, but they're either teachers like him—and the last thing Seth wants to do after spending a day teaching is talk about teaching—or people he's known for years and years who all have their own things going on, namely wrestling the independent circuits where they can or running a wrestling school, things Seth can't do or wants no part of.

He spends his night curled up on the sofa with Kevin cuddled up against his chest, flipping through the channels until he gets bored of that, switching to a game of Madden that he loses himself in until it's a late enough hour he can rationalize going to sleep.

* * *

Seth's knee is giving him all kinds of pain and discomfort when he wakes up the next morning for his workout, and he ends up skipping out, lying in bed until he has to get up and shower.

He limps into the bathroom, grimacing every time he puts weight on his leg, but he powers through his shower, standing on one leg in front of the bathroom sink with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping down his back while he brushes his teeth.

He makes it back into his bedroom with plenty of time to spare, digging out the knee brace he keeps in his bottom dresser drawer, slipping it on and letting out a sigh of relief as the pain slowly dulls. He finishes getting dressed then, a tight pair of dress pants and a black button-down shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a gray tie looped around his neck. His hair gets pulled into a low bun at the nape of his neck, and he puts on a pair of black socks before slipping his feet into a pair of dress shoes.

Seth grabs his phone from the nightstand, surprised to find he has a slew of unread messages. Excitement bubbles up, but he slides his phone into his pocket, letting Kevin out quick while he rushes around the kitchen to grab something to eat before he takes off for work, eating his breakfast burrito one-handed while he navigates the morning traffic.

The parking lot is slowly starting to fill up by the time Seth pulls into the teachers' lot, and he takes a minute after he parks and turns off the car to unlock his phone and read his messages.

[06:17] hey its dean  
[06:17] from the gym?  
[06:26] shit ur prob getting ready for work  
[06:43] or ur just ignoring me?  
[06:57] sry I didn't message yesterday. got caught up with work.

And another comes in while he's reading through the other ones.

[07:00] I guess just message me back if u want. otherwise no harm done

Seth smiles down at his phone.

{07:01} hey, don't worry about it. I know how that can be.

Seth locks his phone and pockets it, grabbing his keys and briefcase before he exits his car, locking the doors behind him. He can feel his phone buzzing in his pocket as he makes his way inside, navigating the halls to his classroom, and he ignores it until he has everything situated on his desk, briefcase stowed underneath.

[07:03] oh good. thought u were ignoring me

Seth raises an eyebrow.

{07:14} why would I do that?

[07:16] idk

Real verbose, this one.

[07:17] what r u doing tonight?

Seth nearly drops his phone, reading and rereading the last message. Is Dean…? But he's not even in Iowa anymore, is he? It's one of his days off; shouldn't he be at home?

{07:19} umm  
{07:19} nothing that I know of, why?

He holds his breath and waits, feeling like a teenager with their first crush, waiting for a text back.

[07:21] was thinking I could take u out

Seth bites back the noises threatening to escape, reminding himself he's 28 years old and a respected teacher, not a 15-year-old boy about to feel up his first girlfriend at a weekend party.

{07:25} id like that

Cool, nonchalant, even though he's freaking out on the inside. Better not to let Dean know just yet how fucking eager he is for this.

[07:27] cool. Where should I pick u up?

Seth types out his address, double and triple checks it before he hits send, butterflies taking up residence in his stomach.

[07:30] I can't wait

At Dean's admission, Seth doesn't feel as alone in his excitement, sends back that he can't wait, either.

His classroom slowly starts filling up, and as much as he doesn't want to, Seth tells Dean as much, that duty calls and he's got some brilliant young minds to mold.

[07:40] don't think id be doing much learning if u were my teacher

Seth feels his face heat an embarrassing shade of red, and he can't even muster a response, silencing his phone and shoving it into his desk.

He'll reply later, after he's had enough time to cool down and think rationally and inot/i take it somewhere sexual, because that's the only place his brain is at right now, and as great as that is, images of him and Dean and teacher-student roleplay dancing through his head, that's not what he needs right now, not with a room full of teenage students.

It is a pleasant thought, though, and if he keeps going back to it throughout the morning, well, that's no one's business but his own.


	2. Chapter 2

First dates and honesty.

* * *

There are a bunch of new messages waiting for Seth when he pulls his phone out of his desk on his lunch break, and it fills him with anxiety and excitement in equal turns.

Honestly, he has no idea what he's doing here, and he doesn't want to dwell on it much because he's certain if he does, he'll drive himself insane.

He just can't believe that this is his life right now, that he somehow managed to snag the attention of Dean fucking Ambrose, that Dean is even remotely interested in him, that they're somehow trading texts after a chance meeting in Seth's gym.

After running to the cafeteria to grab a salad, Seth returns to his desk and unlocks his phone, scrolling through the messages with one hand while he eats with the other.

[07:47] too much?  
[07:48] sry :(  
[07:51] im just an upfront kind of guy  
[07:52] hope that's not gonna be a problem

On the contrary, that's so much from being a problem, it actually fills Seth with relief. He's been with too many people who were dodgy, secretive, never really said what they were thinking or feeling, and it led to a lot of bad breakups. Seth's glad Dean isn't that way, doesn't think he'd be able to deal with that from someone he's so into.

{11:45} no, not at all!  
{11:45} sorry, man, just getting my lunch break

Seth shovels a forkful of greens into his mouth, chewing while he watches the screen on his phone dim, only to light up a few seconds later.

[11:47] oh. thought I scared u away

Seth snorts out a quiet laugh. There's probably very little Dean could do to scare him away, truth be told.

{11:48} nah. just working  
{11:48} what are you up to?

Seth finishes his lunch, draining the remains of his bottle of water, tossing it all in the trashcan beside his desk. There isn't much he needs to do today in the way of grading and correcting assignments, and he's already submitted the midterm grades for all his classes.

He usually spends his lunch breaks dicking around on the internet, unless he has a student that needs some extra help and doesn't have any other time because of extracurricular activities.

His phone vibrates in his hand, twice in rapid succession.

The first is a photo of a mostly empty plate, the remains of what looks to be a steak and some kind of potato.

[11:52] eatin lunch

{11:53} that's a pretty heavy lunch, isn't it?

Seth wouldn't be able to do much if he put away that kind of meal for lunch. He's pretty damn useless after a good, filling meal.

[11:55] need the energy. Im a busy man.

Now, Seth doesn't make it a point to lie, and he's a little disgusted with himself that he's already let it progress without telling Dean he knows who he is, but he doesn't want to ruin this already. He knows the longer he goes without telling Dean, the worse it's going to be, but doesn't he deserve this little bit of happiness, even if it's temporary and will undoubtedly explode in his face?

{11:58} well, busy man, what do you have in mind for tonight?

They spend the remainder of Seth's lunch break bouncing ideas back and forth, but the last message Dean sends is filled with a lot of promise, and Seth really needs this day to go by faster.

 _[12:23] u'll love what I have in mind, don't worry ;)_

* * *

Seth all but rushes out of the building when he can finally leave for the day, and he may or may not speed a little bit in his haste to get home.

Kevin is barking up a storm again when he gets through the door, and Seth spends a few minutes petting him before he leads him outside, taking in the breezy spring weather while he waits for Kevin to trot back over to him.

Even though there are a few hours between now and when Dean said he'd be arriving to pick him up, Seth feels like it's not enough time. He wants to shower again, this time more thoroughly, and he needs to trim his beard and take care of other hairy situations.

It's not that he's expecting sex, no, he'd just rather be prepared for it on the off chance it does happen. He's usually well-groomed, but that's fallen to the wayside as of late, too busy with work and everything it entails to really care about the state of his body hair, and what's the point of it, anyway, when he's going through probably the longest dry spell of his life.

He takes Kevin back in, gives him a treat and fills his food and water dishes, and heads off to his bedroom, opening the closet door and rifling through the clothes on the hanger.

He has no idea where Dean is taking him, so he isn't quite sure how to dress. Does he wear jeans and a t-shirt, or something more formal, something similar to what he's already wearing?

Dean doesn't really seem like the kind of guy who'd take Seth to some rich, fancy place for a first date, but therein lies the problem: however Dean may seem is probably not how he is at all. Dude's about as private as private can get, and there's almost no information about him anywhere, aside from a few interviews he did years back, but even those aren't much to go off of.

Seth sighs and flops down onto his bed. It feels like he's getting everything he wants, but he knows he shouldn't be taking it, not this way.

Whatever the plan for the night is, Seth resolves to be upfront and honest. If that's the kind of person Dean is, Seth should aspire to be the same, especially if they're going to get anywhere past tonight—not that he has high hopes for that.

He pushes himself off the bed, pulling clothes out at random. He knows what he looks best in, what flatters the curves and muscles on his body, and he lays those across the bed before hanging everything else back in the closet, going over to the dresser and pulling out a fresh pair of socks and boxer briefs.

It takes him almost an hour to shower, way longer than he normally lets himself stay in there, but he's squeaky clean from head to toe and everywhere in between, and all the untamed hair has been whipped into shape. All he has left to do is trim his beard, fix his hair, and get dressed, and he does it all in short order, standing in front of the full-length mirror in his bedroom, looking himself over.

He's wearing his best pair of dark wash jeans, and they cling to every muscle in his legs, framing his ass and drawing all attention to it. His shirt isn't anything special, a plain gray thing, but it's similar to his jeans, sleeves straining around his biceps, stretching tight across his chest and back, looser around his waist.

He looks good and he knows it, and he only wishes he felt half as good as that.

He's a bundle of nerves, stomach dipping and rolling like he's on the world's most insane rollercoaster, and it gets worse with every minute that ticks by.

What is he even doing. He's a teacher, for fuck's sake. What does he have to offer someone like Dean? Surely Dean could find someone better.

And what's more is that he hates that he's doubting himself like this. He's always known his worth, never once doubted that he deserved the good things that were happening to him, and now it's like he's reverted to an awkward teenager, unsure of themselves or their place in the world.

It's not a feeling he likes at all, and he kind of dislikes Dean for making him feel this way.

Kevin's barking pulls him from his thoughts, and he shuts off the lights in his room, shushing the dog as he makes his way out to the living room.

"Kev, shhh," Seth says, keeps his voice as firm as he can while whispering. Kevin looks up at him with disdain, jumping up on the sofa, looking ready to pounce. "Behave."

Seth's hands are shaking when he gets to the door, and it's almost as if he's forgotten how to breathe. His heart is beating a mile a minute inside his chest, but he pastes on a smile he doesn't quite feel, donning as much false bravado as he can.

Dean's rocking on the balls of his feet when Seth opens the door, and he looks no different than he does in the ring, minus the sweat coating his skin. He's wearing a pair of jeans, a black t-shirt, leather jacket thrown over it all. His hair is dry and curling at the ends, and his smile is wide enough his eyes are squinted.

He's kind of ridiculously, stupidly hot.

Seth swallows roughly, opens the door a little wider, says, "Hey," and tries not to flush in embarrassment at the nervous tremble in his voice.

Dean's eyes slowly scan up and down his body, and Seth feels a different kind of heat suffusing his skin. "Hey, Seth," he says, eyes finally back on Seth's face. "You look good."

There's a flicker of pink as his tongue swipes over his bottom lip, and Seth's half-tempted to say fuck whatever plans Dean has in mind and drag him inside to his bedroom instead.

He doesn't, but it's a close thing.

"You do, too," Seth says, lets his eyes drag over Dean's body, making sure Dean knows Seth's definitely into him.

He's about to ask what the plans are for the night when Kevin darts out past his feet, tiny teeth latching onto the leg of Dean's jeans.

"Kevin, c'mon," Seth says, stern, but Kevin pays him no mind, shaking his little body as he tugs and tugs.

"Kevin?" Dean asks, chuckling.

Seth nods. "It's a badass name, and he's a tiny little thing. Didn't wanna give him some kind of complex giving him a dumb, cutesy name," he explains.

Dean holds his hands up, says, "I ain't judgin'."

He bends down and wraps his hands around Kevin's midsection, pulling him away from his pant leg and lifting him to his chest.

Seth watches with warm eyes as Dean scritches his fingers along Kevin's back, under his chin, Kevin all but melting against Dean's chest.

Lucky little fucker.

It takes a few minutes, but Dean sets Kevin back down just inside the doorway, wiping his hands on his thighs. "So," he says, "ready to go?"

Seth nods. "I just have to grab my keys and wallet, gimme a sec," he says, and darts inside, grabbing his things and shoving them into his pockets. Kevin whines at him from where he's now perched on the sofa, and Seth feels a pang in his chest at leaving the little guy, especially after being gone all morning and afternoon.

"Tomorrow," he says, rubs his hand over Kev's head, "we'll go to the park."

Dean's still waiting outside the door when Seth returns, double-checking the locks before he turns to Dean and says, "Alright, what's the plan?"

Dean's smile is softer, warmer, and he puts his hand to the small of Seth's back as he leads him to the driveway where his car is parked. "I'm not too familiar with this town," he says, "but I figured we could just grab a bite to eat and go for a walk or something?"

"That sounds good." Seth climbs into the passenger seat after Dean unlocks the car doors, immediately missing the warmth of Dean's hand on his body.

Dean slides behind the wheel while Seth's buckling his seatbelt, and when the car starts, the low sound of country fills the air. Seth does his best not to make a face, but country just isn't his thing.

"Not a fan?" Dean asks, and Seth smiles apologetically, shaking his head. Dean switches the station to something else, but the volume is too low now for Seth to really tell what's playing.

Dean reverses out of the driveway, and suddenly Seth is thrown back in his seat, the car shooting forward, and he's wondering all over again just what the hell he's gotten himself into. Dean has no apparent regard for speed limits or turn signals, and Seth isn't sure if they're going to make it in one piece to wherever it is they're going.

"Have you lived here long?" Dean asks, and his voice is so sudden it makes Seth jump a little.

"Uh, yeah," Seth says, white-knuckle gripping the belt strapped across his chest. "Born and raised here."

"Huh," Dean says, looks over his shoulder before changing lanes, "that's cool."

"What about you?" Seth asks, ignoring the voice in his head that chastises him for continuing to play dumb. "Where are you from?"

Dean's bottom lip is drawn between his teeth, but he releases it after a few seconds. "I was born in Ohio. Cincinnati. Kinda lived all over the place since then, but I guess Vegas is home now."

Seth didn't actually know Dean was living in Vegas now. That makes him feel a little better, not like such a creep. "Why Vegas?" he asks, curious.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. "I like it there."

Seth knows when to let a subject drop, so he doesn't push any further. He shifts his eyes out the car window, taking in their surroundings. They're in the heart of the city, driving past businesses and restaurants. "Where are we going?"

Dean throws him a smirk in response, but a few minutes later, the car is slowing and they're turning into the parking lot of one of Seth's favorite pizza places, and he can't help but smile.

"Good choice, I'm guessing," Dean says.

Seth nods, says, "Yeah, this place is one of my favorites."

Dean parks the car, rounding the front and opening Seth's door before he's even removed his seatbelt. His hand is on the small of Seth's back again, and Seth is finding he could quickly get used to it.

The pizza place is quiet when they enter, given it's the middle of the week, and there are plenty of open tables and booths to choose from. Dean leads them back to a corner booth, sliding into one side and motioning for Seth to sit across from him.

They've barely been seated a minute when a waitress pops by, quickly taking their drink order and leaving them with a couple of menus.

"What's good here?" Dean asks. He's looking at Seth over the top of his menu, and all Seth can see is the blue of his eyes, the gold of his lashes, the crinkle of skin at the corners of his eyes, and it's so surreal to him that he's sitting here, across from Dean Ambrose, and if the last couple of days have been some kind of dream, he never wants to wake up.

"Everything," Seth says. They've got pizza and pastas, salads and sandwiches, and the breadsticks are some of the best Seth has ever had, even if eating them means he needs to spend an extra fifteen minutes in the gym.

The waitress returns with their drinks: two Diet Cokes and two glasses of water, and Seth and Dean place their order, a medium supreme pizza that they plan on splitting, a salad for Seth, and a plate of chicken alfredo for Dean.

"How do you manage to eat all that and still look the way you do?" It's perplexing, really. Dean has such a small waist, and if he eats like this all the time, even with working out, Seth doesn't understand how he doesn't have some kind of belly.

"Well," Dean begins, "I work out, for one."

His eyes are twinkling, like he's barely restraining his amusement, and instead of being embarrassed by it, Seth's smitten with the glow in those blues.

"And I don't eat like this all the time," Dean finishes, chuckling softly. "I'd probably weigh like eight thousand pounds if I did, and that's not really conducive to my career, y'know?"

Seth hums softly. Now's probably the time when he should say something, but he can't make his brain form the words, throat clicking dryly. "I don't think weighing eight thousand pounds is conducive to anyone's career," he points out instead, willing away the tremor in his hand as he reaches for his glass of water.

"Fair point," Dean says, nodding his head. "You said you're a teacher?"

Seth nods, setting his water glass down. "Yeah. 10th grade English and creative writing."

Dean whistles. "I couldn't do it," he says, shaking his head. "I remember myself at that age, and the last thing I'd wanna do at this age is deal with a bunch of those little assholes."

"It's not that bad," Seth says, making a face. "I mean, sure, you've got the ones who try to make teachers' lives hell, or just don't give a shit, but for the most part, the kids in my classes are pretty good."

"That's lucky," Dean says. "Is teaching what you always wanted to do?"

Seth swallows roughly, shakes his head. "No," he says, voice barely above a whisper. "I just kind of fell into it after plan A didn't work out."

"What was plan A?" Dean asks. His eyes are laser-focused on Seth, and it's a little unnerving, having such a heavy focus on him.

"I uh—I wanted to be a wrestler," Seth says, drops his gaze to the table, drawing his fingers through the condensation on his water glass.

"What happened?"

Seth wants to look up at Dean, but he can't bring himself to, not yet. He doesn't want to see the look of pity on Dean's face, doesn't think he'd be able to stomach it, because while Dean's living the dream, his dream, Seth had to settle for being a teacher.

"I blew out my knee," he says, as detached as he can be. It's a story he's repeated a dozen times, but It still eats at him now, all these years later, and it's hard to hide the pain in his voice from having his dream ripped away. "ACL, MCL, and meniscus. Didn't heal right after the surgery, even with all the rehab and therapy."

"Shit, man, that sucks."

Seth laughs dryly. "Understatement of my life."

The waitress finally appears, setting their food down on the table between them, and Seth couldn't be more grateful for the interruption.

"Hey," Dean's voice cuts in, "look at me."

Seth steels his nerves, pulls his eyes away from the food and looks up at Dean.

There's no pity there, only concern, and it warms something in Seth's chest.

"I get it," Dean says softly. "I've known plenty of guys it's happened to, and it sucks. Any kind of injury sucks, but career-enders like that are devastating."

"Yeah." Seth pokes at his salad, sets his fork down with a sigh. "Now's probably a good time for me to tell you I already know who you are, huh?"

Dean's eyes are twinkling again, and it looks like he's fighting back a smile.

Seth's heart doesn't know what to do, alternating between that sick, slow thump against his ribs, and a rapid roaring in his ears.

And then Dean laughs. Throws his head back and laughs, and Seth has never heard something so beautiful.

"I know," Dean says, once he's calmed down. "I've been wrestling for years. I'd like to think I've gotten pretty good at realizing when someone's recognized me, even if they don't say anything."

"And you're not mad?" Seth asks, hardly believing this is actually happening.

"Nah." Dean shakes his head. "I actually like that you pretended not to know who I was. Made me feel a little more normal, y'know?"

Seth blows out a huge breath, feels every muscle in his body relax. "I thought you'd be pissed," he says, smiling slightly.

"No." Dean takes a bite out of a slice of pizza, moaning as he chews and swallows. Seth was wrong; Dean's laugh is beautiful, yes, but his moaning? Now that is the most beautiful thing he's ever heard. "I wouldn't have asked for your number if you would've reacted any other way, though," he adds.

"So you don't care that you're probably one of my favorite wrestlers ever?" Seth asks, throwing it out there. He needs to know what's what, and now that they're putting everything out in the open, there's no point in holding anything back.

"Shows you've got good taste," Dean says around a mouthful of food.

"No, c'mon," Seth says, "I'm serious. Like, I don't want it to be weird that I'm a fan, that I've followed your career for years."

Dean wipes his hand on a napkin, ice clinking against the sides of his glass as he lifts it to his lips and takes a drink, throat working as he swallows. He sets it back down on the table, lifting his eyes to meet Seth's, and says, "It's not weird, Seth. I think it's actually pretty awesome. Like, what are the odds of that? But, I mean, I dunno, I like that you're a fan of what I do."

Dean pauses and takes another drink of water, face scrunched like he's deep in thought. "You've gotta understand, though, that what you see on tv and shit ain't me, y'know? Like, the real me. I ain't that 'lunatic' or whatever they seem to like calling me, and I ain't easily ruffled. Takes a lot to piss me off, y'know? As long as you understand that, we're golden."

Seth shrinks a little in his seat. "No, I know," he says, poking around at his salad. "I didn't expect you to be like that." He shrugs a shoulder, sorting through the thoughts in his head. "If I'd believed that the you onscreen is the same as the you sitting here, I probably wouldn't have given you my number."

That's only a partial truth. He still would have given Dean his number—how often does something like that happen, honestly, like he'd have been an idiot to pass that up—but he's glad for the reassurance that who Dean is in and around the ring is completely separate from who he is outside of it.

It doesn't make Seth any less attracted to him. Truth be told, Dean's lunatic shtick isn't even all that attractive to him. It's more about Dean's journey to get to where he is now, scratching and clawing his way to the top of the biggest wrestling corporation in the world. All the hard work and tireless traveling and putting his body on the line, day in and day out—it's admirable and attractive, the drive and ambition it takes, and it helps that Dean's body is lean and fit, with eyes that flicker between blue and gray.

Dean smirks at him in response.

Seth feels infinitely lighter now, though he still has some worries that are nagging at him. He doesn't want to bring them up now, though, doesn't want to seem like a neurotic mess when this is only their first date, and he hasn't yet had a chance to see where this is going.

He starts eating in earnest, stomach grumbling at the scent of food that isn't in his stomach yet, trading questions back and forth with Dean. It's easy and relaxing, and that's the last thing Seth thought it would be. He's here, sitting in front of one of his favorite wrestlers ever, and they're on a date, and Seth isn't freaking out or making a complete fool of himself. It's going better than he ever could have hoped for.

Dean pays for dinner—tip included—and his hand is on the small of Seth's back again, leading him out the doors and into the cool night air. He keeps it there as they walk, past the parking lot and down the sidewalk, enjoying each other's company.

They walk and they talk, little things like favorite music and movies, favorite foods and drinks, and the time passes all too quickly for Seth's liking. They make a final loop around the block, ending back at the parking lot, and Dean opens Seth's door for him again, tips of his fingers trailing down the line of Seth's back.

It wracks his body with shivers, and he has to bite his lip to stifle any sound that's trying to leak out.

Judging by the look in Dean's eyes, he knows exactly what he's doing, what that little move caused.

The drive back to Seth's house is slower, calmer than the previous drive was, and the soft sounds of the radio playing create a comforting, cozy atmosphere that Seth doesn't want to leave.

All too soon, Dean is pulling into the driveway of Seth's house, shifting the car into park and shutting off the engine. Seth unbuckles his seatbelt, blowing out a slow breath as Dean comes around and opens the door, offering a hand that Seth readily takes.

Dean walks him up the path to the front door, and Seth's entire body starts shaking. Fuck, but he's coming off as anything but calm and collected right now, and Dean's probably laughing inside at him, almost thirty years old and acting like this is his first date.

Dean's face, though, when he turns to look at him, is anything but amused. He looks pleased, content, and it fills Seth with an unprecedented happiness.

"I had a really good time tonight," Dean says, brushing his thumb over the ridges of Seth's knuckles. His eyes are flickering between Seth's eyes and lips, and it makes Seth swallow roughly, something sweet and hot bubbling low in his stomach.

"I did, too," Seth says, sways in closer, feels the warmth of Dean's breath wash over his face.

Dean swoops in and kisses him, sweet and chaste, barely long enough for Seth to reciprocate, but it makes heat flood through him anyway, eyes slowly fluttering as Dean takes a step back, a soft smile dancing across his lips.

"I'll call you later," Dean says, "so we can do this again."

"I'd like that." Seth watches Dean's retreating figure, a little disappointed that he didn't ask to come in, but it's already getting late, and Seth has to work tomorrow. He appreciates that Dean didn't try to push for anything, but he wouldn't have said no if he had.

Seth unlocks the door and heads inside, leaning back against it when he closes it behind him. There's a ridiculous smile on his face that he knows isn't going anywhere anytime soon, and as he thinks back on Dean's last text from earlier today, the one where he promised that Seth was going to love what he had in mind for the night, Seth realizes he was right.

Sure, it may not have been anything fancy or over the top, but a night with Dean at one of his favorite places? He'd take that over anything else any day.

Seth's phone buzzes in his pocket, and he pulls it out, smiling wider at the text on his screen.

[10:17] I cant wait to see u again

Butterflies attack Seth's stomach.

{10:18} I can't wait, either.


	3. Chapter 3

Sexting, phone sex, and first times. 

* * *

Four and a half weeks are over in the blink of an eye, and Seth finally breathes easier knowing he has nothing to do for the next couple months.

Things have been going really well with Dean, and it still surprises him that he gets to have this, Dean. It feels like the most surrealist of dreams, and he can't help but pinch himself from time to time to make sure he's actually awake.

Dean hasn't been back to Iowa since that first night, and it frustrates Seth, especially so because Dean missed his birthday—not that he even knew, but their schedules just haven't lined up properly. Whenever Dean had a day or two off, Seth was busy writing tests or grading tests, or trying to make sure he'd have enough time to cover everything he needed to, and when his time was free, Dean was busy, making his way across the country.

He's glad that it's summer vacation now, and that he's not required to teach a summer school session this year. That's the last thing he wants to do with his time, and the day after he submits all the final grades, he cleans the clutter out of his desk drawers, packing it all into a box, leaving the drawers empty and ready to be filled again in a couple short months.

He's like a kid, eager to get the hell out of there for the summer, but he pauses in the doorway, pulling his phone from his pocket.

The desk is empty, barren, computer taken away to be replaced by a newer model come the next school year—thank fuck, that old dinosaur of a computer was a pain in the ass on its good days—and he aims the camera on his phone there, chuckling to himself as he snaps the photo, pulling it up in Dean's message thread.

{10:17} too bad you're not here…  
{10:17) could've made good use of this ;)

It's a thing he's gotten used to over the last few weeks, suggestive and flirty texts traded with Dean. It hasn't gone any further than that, but even the little bit they say is enough to make all the blood in Seth's body rush south, his breathing a little labored, cheeks warmly flushed.

[10:22] fuck seth  
[10:24] youd look so good bent over it for me

Oh, fuck.

That's as brazen as Dean's gotten, and it sends a surge of heat flooding through Seth's body. He doesn't know what he expected, really. He gave Dean the opening and he took it, fucking ran with it, and it makes Seth's entire body ache with how badly he wants.

He can feel himself twitching in his shorts, and the material does nothing to hide the way he's fattening up, picturing it, Dean pressed close, sweat slick chest pressed to Seth's back, rocking into him.

Seth feels bold, empowered, and he sets the box of junk down onto one of the student's desks, leans back and stretches out over his own, camera angled down to capture the swell of his cock pushing out against his shorts.

He doesn't send anything else along with the photo, and his stomach is suddenly in knots, worried that he may have gone too far, but it doesn't stop the heat swirling within him, and he grabs the box, quickly making his way out of the school and to his car, needing to be in the privacy of his home as fast as he can be.

There's a text on his phone by the time he does get to his car, but he ignores it, has to, because if he doesn't, he'll probably end up doing something incredibly indecent in the parking lot of his place of employment, and as much as he dislikes teaching sometimes, getting fired isn't a thing he wants to happen.

It feels like the world is against him, traffic flooding the streets, and it takes forever to get home, anticipation running through him as he shuts off the car, makes his way inside.

[10:31] fuckin shit seth  
[10:32] how are u so hot  
[10:32] god I wanna see u take those off

Seth chokes on a breath, feels his cock twitch and harden again.

He goes straight to his bedroom, shutting the door behind him so the dog can't get in, pulling his shirt over his head while he kicks off his shoes.

{10:51} fuck fuck fuck  
{10:51} are we gonna do this?

Because he needs to know if he needs to wait, or if he can strip off the rest of his clothes and go to town, relieve the aching need burning beneath his skin.

His phone chimes with a new message and Seth grabs it eagerly, nearly fumbles it right out of his hand, and the message there has him swallowing roughly, throat clicking dryly.

Dean is laid out on a bed, shirt rucked up to his chest, baring the smooth expanse of his belly, down to the cut of his hips where his jeans are pulled down low, and the button and fly are undone, peeled apart only slightly, but it's enough to see that Dean isn't wearing anything underneath, the barest glimpse of smooth skin and the pink tip of his dick.

"Oh, god." Seth groans, staring at the photo, and it feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, lungs working overtime to pull in every breath.

He shimmies out of his shorts, propping pillows up behind him, and he leans back against them, legs spread wide as he cups a hand around himself, moaning at the friction.

It doesn't take much for his dick to start leaking, a damp patch that grows bigger and bigger, obscene in the tight gray boxer-briefs he's wearing, and he takes a photo of that, the wet spot on his briefs that's soaking through, slicking up his skin, and he can't get his fingers to cooperate long enough to send any kind of message.

Thankfully, Dean seem to has that covered.

[10:56] bet u taste so good  
[10:56] wanna put my mouth on u so bad seth  
[10:57] cmon take em off for me baby  
[10:57] show me what ur hiding

Seth's entire body feels like it's on fire, but he manages to get his briefs off, gritting his teeth at the cool air rushing over the heated skin of his dick.

There's another message on his phone when he gets situated again, and he holds his breath as he pulls it up, nearly losing it at the sight of Dean's cock, thick and red, held loosely in his hand, and his mouth waters, body aches, needing to feel that anywhere he can.

Before he can second-guess himself, he's calling Dean, phone gripped tight in his hand as he holds it up to his ear, the ringing fading out into a rustling of noise before Dean's voice carries over the line, gruff, low.

Seth hiccups on a moan at the sound of it, and he doesn't even care if he's coming off as slutty, easy; he's so fucking turned on right now and it's been so long since he's had a partner in anything, and Dean is really just doing it for him.

"Yeah," Dean says, over the sound of blood rushing in Seth's ears, "that's it, Seth, c'mon, lemme hear you."

Seth grits his teeth, fist wrapped loosely around his cock, and he strokes once from root to tip, a moan pulled out from deep in his belly. "De—ah—Dean, please," he cries, doesn't even know what he's asking for, but Dean's there, in his ear, whispering filth and praise that lights Seth up from the inside out.

"Fuck, Seth," Dean says, and his voice is lower than Seth's ever heard it before. "Can't wait to see you and touch you and hear you. Gonna make you moan so pretty for me, baby."

"I want—oh, god, yeah." There's so much Seth wants to say, but it's like his tongue is suddenly too big for his mouth, can't seem to form words despite all the thoughts flying through his head.

"What do you want?" Dean asks, breathing rough and ragged, and if Seth strains his hearing, he's almost certain he can make out the wet sound of Dean's fist moving over his cock.

"You," Seth says, unabashed in his desire for Dean, but he continues, tongue coming untied as thoughts fly out of his mouth, "Wanna feel you all over me, your hands, your mouth, wanna feel your cock inside me, stretching me, oh, god, Dean."

Dean's breathing gets harsher, panting into Seth's ear. "Next time I'm there, you'll get it, baby. Gonna give you everything you want."

Seth moans, long and low, feels himself nearing the edge, garbled sounds leaving his mouth.

Dean echoes his moan, deep and guttural, cursing under his breath. "Can't wait—oh, fuck—can't wait to feel your tight little ass bouncing on my cock. Think I could make you come like that, just from my cock fucking into that tight little hole?"

Seth's eyes squeeze shut, picturing it, and it's never happened before, but if anyone could do it, he's certain Dean could.

"C'mon, Seth," Dean says, and his words sound strangled, like he's forcing them out of a throat two sizes too small, but it's one of the hottest things Seth has ever heard and he strokes himself faster, tighter, precome soaking his skin, toes curling into the mattress, and Dean's voice is in his ear again, urging him—begging him—to come, to come all over for him, and Seth can't hold back, mouth falling open as he paints his belly and fist, Dean's name falling from his lips in a garbled rush.

"That's it, Seth, so fuckin' good for me."

Seth strokes himself until he can't anymore, until he's shying away from his own touch, and he comes back to himself to the sound of Dean jacking himself, punched out little moans settling warm and satisfying over Seth's skin, and he licks his lips, fingers trailing through the mess on his belly as he says, "I wanna hear you, Dean, c'mon, wanna hear you lose it for me," and Dean does, gravel rough voice in Seth's ear as he comes, hiccupped little breaths that make Seth's cock twitch against his thigh.

There's nothing but the sound of them breathing when Dean comes down, and Seth can't help it, chuckles softly, feeling more relaxed than he has in weeks.

"So ah, was that good for you?" he asks, and the sound of Dean's laughter makes him grin.

"You're a fuckin' dork, dude," Dean says, and it's said so fondly Seth can't do anything but laugh in response.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Seth says. "When do you think you'll be back?"

He picks at the drying flakes of come on his belly, grimacing at the way it tugs at the hairs there.

"Could be there tomorrow afternoon," Dean replies, and Seth stops what he's doing, looking around his room, thinking on the state of the rest of the house.

Not like he'll turn Dean down. He'll just have to do a whole lot of cleaning between tonight and tomorrow.

"You should," Seth says, hating the way he can't even try to hide the eagerness in his voice.

Whatever. It's been too long since he's seen him, he's allowed to be a little fucking eager.

They talk for a little while longer, Seth settled comfortably in his bed, Dean's voice in his ear, and there's a pang of loneliness when Dean says he has to go, but he promises to see Seth tomorrow, and Seth holds onto that as he hangs up, pulling out a new pair of boxers to pull on.

Kevin's laying on the floor outside his door when Seth opens it, and Seth rolls his eyes. "Really, dude?"

Kevin perks up, trotting after Seth as he walks into the kitchen, grabbing a cold bottle of water from the fridge. He lets Kevin outside, standing out there with him to enjoy the cool breeze that slips over his heated skin, ruffling the mess his hair has become.

When they get back inside, Seth starts compiling a mental list of all the things he needs to do: laundry, sweeping, mopping, and the shower needs to be scrubbed, his bedclothes replaced.

He has a lot of time to finish it all, but right now, after an orgasm like the one he just had, cleaning is the last thing he wants to do.

He sighs and scrubs a hand over his face.

The things he does for Dean.

* * *

Seth's out taking Kevin for a walk early the next day. He only managed to do about half his normal workout with the way his knee was acting up, so he settled on using a walk with the dog to finish it off, though he feels lazier because of it.

Dean had texted him in the early hours of the morning, said he was going to fly home to repack his bags for the next week, and that he'd catch another flight to Iowa.

Seth's been trying to ignore the nervous excitement that's been building in him all morning, but he's having a hard time fighting it down. It's been weeks since the last time he saw Dean, and coupled with what they did yesterday, he's more nervous than he should be.

The thing is, Seth has never felt so out of his element in a relationship before. He's always been the cool, cocky, show no weakness kind of guy, and with Dean, he's the complete opposite. He second-guesses himself way too often for his liking, and he's always afraid of overstepping boundaries.

It's not Dean's fault, and he wouldn't ever dream of blaming him; he knows this is all on him, on how he's afraid of ruining what they have, afraid of making Dean realize that he doesn't actually want to be with Seth, and he's his own worst enemy right now.

Kevin starts pulling at the leash, jerking Seth from his thoughts, and Seth looks up ahead where his house is coming into view, heart thudding quick like lightning at the sight of Dean slouched against his car, suitcases at his feet.

He picks up his pace a little, partly to get there faster, partly to stop Kevin from pulling so roughly, and it doesn't take long for them to be walking up the driveway, Seth's mouth gone dry at the relaxed splay of Dean's limbs.

"Thought you said you weren't gonna get here til later?" Seth asks.

Dean shrugs, pushes himself off the car. "Didn't feel like spending half my day off on flying, so I said fuck it, caught a flight here instead. I can wash my shit here, buy new shit if I need to."

"Smart man," Seth says, winking. He bends down to unclip Kevin's leash, and he immediately rushes to Dean's leg, looking for all the world like he's trying to climb up it.

"You coming in?" Seth asks, nodding down at Dean's luggage.

Dean nods, gently shooing Kevin away as he hefts all his bags, following Seth up the walkway to the front door.

"Quit starin' at my ass," Seth says teasingly, chuckling at the affronted sound that leaves Dean's mouth.

"Then ya shouldn't put it right in front of me," Dean fires back.

Seth hums. "You got me there."

"And I'm gonna have you in there in a minute," Dean says, and Seth almost trips over air, flushing.

Dean stows his bags in a corner of the living room when they get inside, and Seth finds an arm around his waist almost immediately, pulling him in flush against Dean's front.

"Hey," Dean says, soft and low in the space between them.

Seth looks up at him through the fan of his eyelashes, feels his cheeks heating at the look in Dean's eyes. "Hey," he says, keeps his voice as intimate and soft as Dean's.

One of Dean's hands curves around the hinge of his jaw, thumb sweeping over the rough scratch of his beard, and then he's angling Seth's head, tilting it as he swoops down and in, lips pressing firmly against Seth's.

Seth groans into it, settles his hands at Dean's waist, parting his lips to the probing touch of Dean's tongue, heat stealing over him as Dean kisses the air from his lungs, tongue licking and curling and rubbing against Dean's in a way that has all the blood in Seth's body rushing south so fast it makes him dizzy.

Dean pulls back with a groan that Seth can't help but echo, breathing a little faster as their lips separate.

"C'mon," Dean says, tugging a curl that's come loose from Seth's bun, "m'tired. I need a nap."

"Alright. Let me get Kev settled," Seth says, "then I'll show you to the bedroom."

Seth moves about quickly, filling Kev's dishes with fresh food and water, and Dean's behind him the whole time, watching with a soft smile on his face.

"Ready?" Seth asks as he places the last dish back in its holder.

Dean nods, eyes blinking slowly. Fuck, he looks exhausted, skin purpling beneath his eyes, every blink slower than the last.

Seth grabs his hand, lacing their fingers together as he pulls him down the hall to his bedroom, closing the door softly behind them.

Dean all but collapses onto Seth's bed, and Seth smiles fondly, if a little worriedly, pulling Dean's boots off his feet and tossing them away. Dean unbuttons his jeans and pulls down the zipper, lifting his hips to push them down, and Seth pulls them off the rest of the way, ignoring the way his entire body heats up at the action.

"Gonna leave your jacket and shirt on?" Seth asks as he folds the jeans and sets them off to the side.

Dean shakes his head, sits up and sheds his jacket, pulling his shirt over his head and leaving his hair a mussed mess.

Seth takes the rest of the clothing, folds it and creates a small stack.

"C'mere," Dean says tiredly, patting the bed beside me. "Come nap."

Seth isn't tired in the least, but he goes anyway, sits on the edge of the bed as he kicks his shoes off, peels off his socks, shirt tossed into the dirty hamper on the opposite side of the room.

He's pulled into Dean almost as soon as he lies down, and he shivers at the feel of Dean's chest pressed against his back, their legs tangled together, Dean's fingers moving up and down the dip of his abs, the trail of hair there.

Dean's breath tickles the back of his neck, but he's content to lay there in Dean's arms for now, letting Dean get the sleep he so obviously needs.

* * *

Seth is jerked awake to the sound of a phone ringing, but it soon becomes clear it's not his, the ringtone not a familiar one.

"Dean," he says, jostling him slightly. "Hey, I think your phone is ringing."

Dean's eyelids slowly flutter open, blue eyes momentarily fogged with sleep. "What?" he asks, voice rough with sleep.

"Your phone, it's ringing," Seth says. "Or it was."

Dean grumbles as he sits up, and Seth follows suit, climbing off the bed to hand Dean his clothes. Dean takes them with a pinched look on his face, and Seth chews on his bottom lip as he watches Dean fumble through his pockets, pulling the phone out of his jeans with a tired sigh.

His phone rings again, loud and shrill now that it's not hindered by any fabric, and Dean answers with a gruff, "What?"

Seth watches the play of emotion on Dean's face, how his face goes from one emotion to the next before one can even settle.

"I told you I was fine, man," Dean says, shaking his head.

Seth should probably excuse himself, not eavesdrop on Dean's call, but Dean's eyes are on him now and Seth feels rooted to the spot.

"No, in Iowa."

"Yeah, Seth's."

A long, drawn out sigh.

"C'mon, Roman, I'm not a child."

Roman. Roman Reigns. And Dean told Roman about him?

He swallows roughly, scratching his chin.

"Yeah, whatever, I'll see you in a couple days."

Dean tosses his phone onto the bed with a groan that sounds equal parts frustrated and irritated.

"Everything okay?" Seth asks, tentatively approaching the bed.

Dean offers him a tired smile. "Just Roman being an overbearing jackass," he explains.

Seth hums softly, sitting back beside Dean, a hand moving up and down Dean's back. Dean leans into it, head falling to Seth's shoulder.

"It's nice that he cares," Seth says softly, moving his hand up to Dean's hair, carding his fingers through the sleep-mussed strands.

"Damn pain in the ass," Dean says, but he laughs, a fond sound if Seth's ever heard one. "Best friend and all, though."

"Hungry?" Seth asks, changing the subject. They'll go back to that topic later, when Dean is more awake and alert. Seth's curious about what Dean has told Roman about him.

Dean's stomach answers for him, grumbling loudly in a way that makes Dean's face flush.

They settle on ordering Chinese, mostly because Seth doesn't feel like cooking anything—and even if he did, he has almost no groceries. They pile onto the living room sofa while they eat, sharing cartons of food and playfully shoving each other as some random show plays in the background.

"I need to get some groceries so I can actually make dinner tonight," Seth says, placing an empty carton back on the coffee table.

"I'll come with," Dean says through a mouthful of food. "When did you wanna go?"

Seth shrugs. "Couple hours, maybe. Plenty of time for you to shower and do some laundry if you wanted."

"Trying to say I stink?" Dean asks, shoving at Seth's shoulder.

Seth pushes right back, wrinkling his nose. "Well, now that you've mentioned it."

"Fucker," Dean says, captures Seth's hands in his own.

"Thought that was your job," Seth says, poking his tongue out Dean.

"Later," Dean says, words full of promise. "If you're good."

Dean moves off the sofa, but not quick enough, Seth's hand flying out, landing with a loud smack to Dean's ass.

Dean's shout is completely over-exaggerated, but it makes Seth break out into peals of laughter, clutching his belly at the look on Dean's face.

"You'll pay for that later," Dean says, and a surge of anticipation zips through Seth's veins.

Dean squats down in the corner by his bags, sorting through them all before he comes up with what Seth assumes is a clean change of clothes.

Seth shows him to the bathroom, the master bathroom off his bedroom, the one he spent hours cleaning, telling him to use whatever he needs.

"Except my toothbrush, don't use my toothbrush. There's a new one in the middle drawer."

"What do you think I am?" Dean asks. "Some kind of animal?"

Seth laughs and shakes his head, leaving the door open behind him. He doesn't think he should be around Dean right now, not with Dean getting wet and naked in his shower. As eager as he is to get his hands on Dean, to have Dean's hands on him, he doesn't want it to be some rushed groping under the spray of the shower.

Kevin is sniffing around the takeout boxes when Seth gets back into the living room, and Seth clucks his tongue at him, shooing him away. "You know better," he chastises, scooping up the empty containers and dumping them in the kitchen trash.

He needs to change, or at least put a pair of shorts and a t-shirt on, but being in his room so close to a soapy, wet Dean is much too tempting, so he sits and waits, drumming his fingers over his belly, on the verge of falling asleep by the time Dean appears.

His hair is wet and dripping down his shirt, sheer little patches on the white fabric, and Seth's eyes are drawn to them, to the pink of Dean's skin that's visible through them.

How is it that every little thing Dean does turns Seth on? He feels like a walking volcano of lust, just waiting for the right moment to erupt.

Seth shakes his head, clears his throat. "I'm gonna change, then we can go if you're ready?"

Dean reminds Seth about his laundry, and Seth nearly facepalms. After he quickly shows Dean where everything is, he rushes to his bedroom, slipping on a fresh t-shirt, retying his hair into a bun on the top of his head.

Dean's waiting on the sofa for him, Kevin curled up in his lap, and Seth loves how he looks here, in his house, with his dog in his lap like this is where Dean belongs.

"Ready?" Seth asks, grabbing his wallet and phone from the coffee table, shoving them into the pockets of his shorts.

Dean nods, guiding Kevin out of his lap, rising to his feet. He falls into step beside Seth, and his hand is on the small of Seth's back, tiny little drags of his fingertips that make Seth clench his jaw to suppress the shivers they evoke.

God, but his touch feels so good.

* * *

Seth feels lazy, pleasantly full from a dinner of grilled steaks and corn, and he never wants to move from where he's at, his head pillowed on Dean's thigh, Dean's fingers slowly brushing through the strands of his hair.

"When do you have to leave?" Seth asks, turns his head so he can look up at Dean.

"Friday morning. Gotta fly out and meet Roman in the next city," Dean says, his fingers smoothing over the skin at the corner of one of Seth's eyes.

Seth hums softly in response. "How much does Roman know about us?"

Seth can see the lift of Dean's shoulders as he shrugs. "He just knows I'm here with you."

"Oh," Seth says, a soft exhalation of breath. He doesn't know what he was expecting. Truth be told, he wasn't even expecting Dean to have said anything about him to anyone at all, and he doesn't know why he's so disappointed in Dean's response.

"Hey," Dean says, and Seth's eyes snap up to Dean's face, taking in the soft look that's there. "C'mon, sit up."

Seth moves slowly, careful of his stomach and how full he feels, perching himself in Dean's lap, ignoring the protesting throb in his knee at the way he's sitting.

Dean's hands move to Seth's hips, and Seth puts his hands on Dean's shoulders, marveling at the breadth of them beneath his hands.

Dean's eyes are locked on his, and Seth feels flustered under the intent gaze of those blue eyes, but he doesn't look away, couldn't even if someone were to drag him away.

"He knows about you—about us, if that's what you're worried about," Dean says, and Seth's finding it a little hard to focus on Dean's words with the way his thumbs are brushing back and forth over the bones of his hips.

"He doesn't approve, does he?" Seth asks, fighting to keep his attention on the topic at hand. He hates how small his voice sounds, but he can't help it.

Dean looks like he's thinking carefully about what he wants to say next. "It's not that he doesn't approve," he says finally, if a little hesitant. "Just thinks I'm being a little—" Dean pauses "—foolish, I guess."

"Foolish?" Seth asks, but he doesn't need to hear Dean's response to know what he—Roman—means. Foolish to think this thing between them could actually work, foolish to think they can actually have this.

"Look at me," Dean says, and Seth doesn't want to, doesn't want to see the look on Dean's face, but Dean's hand is there, pushing his chin up, and he's smiling softly, corners of his eyes just starting to crinkle.

"I don't care what Roman says or thinks," Dean says. Seth wants to look away, but the grip Dean has on his chin is keeping him there, their eyes locked. "I'm here because I want to be, because I like you, and I think there's the potential for us to be something really freakin' awesome, y'know?"

Seth nods a little dumbly.

"Now c'mon, quit worryin' about what everyone else thinks and kiss me."

Dean makes an exaggerated kissy face and Seth can't help but laugh. And Dean calls him a dork.

"C'mere," Dean says, whispers, and his hands are cupping the back of Seth's head, and Seth's helpless to do anything but follow where Dean's guiding him, their lips pressing softly together over and over, until Seth finally deepens it, hands fisted in Dean's shirt, licking into Dean's mouth, the cool mint of the gum Dean was chewing on after dinner, and something underneath that's purely Dean, and Seth groans into it, shifting in Dean's lap, a hiccupped breath escaping at the feel of Dean hardening beneath him.

Dean grips his hips tight, pulling Seth down against him, and Seth can't stop the movement of his hips, tiny rolls that have him dragging his cock back and forth over Dean's, the sounds falling from his lips eaten away by a swipe of Dean's tongue.

"That's it," Dean says, pulling his lips away from Seth's, warmth of his breath washing over Seth's cheek. "Just like that."

Seth nods, forehead falling to Dean's shoulder, and each breath is shakier than the last as he grinds down, Dean's hands all over him, moving from his hips to his back, down to his ass.

Dean keeps moving with him, rocking his hips up every time Seth grinds down, and Seth's sweating, can feel the trickles of sweat sliding down his back, along his hairline, and the heat of it all spurs him on, makes him move a little harder, a little faster, precome sliding sticky and wet inside his boxers.

"Oh, god, Dean," Seth grits out, a shudder wracking his frame. It feels like too much and not enough, and he doesn't know if he wants to come like this, but he can't stop, hips moving of their own volition, Dean's mouth hot and wet on Seth's neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and Seth feels another blurt of precome trickle down his cock.

"Hang on," Dean says, moves Seth's arms to wrap around his neck, and Seth gets what Dean means, wraps his legs around Dean's waist, holds on tight as Dean slowly rises to his feet, carrying him through his house to his bedroom.

Seth isn't small by any means. He's maybe a couple inches shorter than Dean, but he still has plenty of muscle on him, weighs probably close to what Dean does himself. It's such a fucking turn on, knowing that Dean is strong enough to pick him up and carry him around, and sure, he knows Dean is strong, has seen him lift guys that are bigger than both of them, but to have Dean doing it to him, it makes his cock throb hard and heavy in his shorts, imagining Dean holding him up and fucking him against a wall, all that strength in his arms and legs.

Dean lays him out on the bed, pulling his t-shirt over his head, tossing it somewhere behind them, swooping back in to seal their lips together, kisses hungrier and harder than they were before.

"Move, c'mon," Seth says, pushing Dean away so he can get rid of his own shirt, needing to feel their skin pressed together, and when he does, he moans, shivers, fingers scratching down Dean's back.

"Condom? Lube?"

Seth blinks up at Dean, and it takes a moment for the words to register, but when they do, he points at the nightstand, says, "Bottom drawer," swallowing hard at the anticipation that's stoking the fire low in his belly.

Dean's barely gone for a minute, and when he returns, he hooks his fingers in the waistband of Seth's shorts and boxers, tugging them down Seth's legs, baring him to heated air surrounding them.

"Fuck," Dean says, curling a hand around Seth's cock, and Seth bites his lip, rocks up into it, legs falling open enough for Dean to settle in between them, fingers rubbing soothing circles along the inside of Seth's thigh.

It only gets better when Dean leans in, blows a warm breath of air over the sticky wet head, lips pursed as he presses them there. Seth thrusts up into it, can't help the movement of his hips, but Dean doesn't chastise him, only parts his lips and takes Seth in, mouth moving smoothly up and down Seth's cock, hand working his balls expertly.

It's not long before Seth feels that familiar tingle stealing over his body, and he tries to warn Dean, tries to let him know, but all that comes out is a garbled moan, a breathless cry, and he's spilling hot and wet into Dean's mouth, body shaking and trembling as Dean works him through it, grinning filthy wide as he pulls off.

"You're so fucking hot," Dean says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Seth grins up at him, feels mellow and relaxed, loose-limbed and pliable. He motions for Dean to come closer, and when he does, Seth gets a hand in Dean's hair, pulls him down, licks the taste of his come from Dean's mouth, hand massaging the hard swell of Dean's cock through his jeans.

"Get these off," Seth says, frowning at how they're in the way of getting to what he really wants.

Dean stands and shimmies out of his jeans and boxers, and Seth watches every move with hungry eyes. Fuck, but Dean is gorgeous, all broad shoulders and tapered waist, cock thick and hard and curved deliciously.

He gets a hand on Dean as soon as he can, Dean up on his knees beside him, the heat of his Dean's cock seeping into his skin, and he strokes as best as he can with the awkward angle, Dean's hips rolling back and forth fluidly, eyes flicking between Seth's hand and face, like he doesn't know where he wants to look more.

Seth gets so lost in Dean's cock in his hand, in stroking him, feeling the way it twitches and throbs, it takes him by surprise to hear the click of the lube, the cold of Dean's fingers working between his ass, fluttering over the space of his hole.

Dean's fingers are thick, callused, and they send shivers down Seth's spine, a brain-meltingly hot sensation, and it only gets better when Dean slides a finger in, Seth clenching down reflexively before he relaxes, Dean slowly, slowly working his finger inside and out.

"You're so fuckin' tight, Seth, shit," Dean says, gravel rough voice heightening Seth's pleasure.

"God, c'mon, gimme more," Seth pants, rolls his hips to get more of Dean's finger, hand slack around Dean's cock before it falls to the bed, gripping the sheets tight in his fist.

Dean happily obliges, slipping in another finger, and it burns, stings, but Seth loves it, loves the feeling of Dean's fingers opening him wider, tips of them grazing the spot that makes Seth's head swim, his body jolt, cock rapidly fattening up against his belly.

The press of Dean's third finger makes Seth freeze, air trapped in his lungs, but Dean strokes him through it, whispered words and praises until Seth relaxes, until Seth is gasping and moaning, hips moving again.

Dean spends a long minute working his fingers in and out of Seth's ass, and Seth's mindless with it, hands scrabbling for purchase anywhere they land: the bed, his hair, Dean's arm, and Seth almost can't take the look on Dean's face, the heavy-lidded look of lust in his eyes, blue eaten away by the black of his pupils.

"M'ready, Dean, c'mon," Seth says. His voice sounds strange to his own ears, thick and heavy with lust, and it's never been like this for him before, never driven him to the brink of madness and back, and he knows he's ruined after this, that no one else will ever compare.

Seth feels empty when Dean removes his fingers, but Dean's moving between his legs, fumbling with the condom wrapper and cursing under his breath as he rolls it on, and Seth bites his bottom lip as he watches Dean slick himself up, moving in closer until his thighs are pressed to the back of Seth's legs.

"Fair warning," Dean says, as breathless as Seth feels, "probably not gonna last very long."

"Don't care," Seth says, shaking his head. He doesn't care if Dean comes the second he gets inside him; he just wants to feel Dean there, feel their bodies pressed as close together as they can get.

Dean nods, throat working visibly as he swallows.

Seth takes a breath, body trembling as Dean's cockhead slips over and around his asshole, and he cries out as Dean pushes in, in, in, feeling stretched open and full, and it's endless, Dean moving, moving, moving until he stops, hips pressed flush to Seth's ass, and it's so much, so fucking much, every nerve like a livewire where Dean touches him.

"Oh, god," Dean says, gritting his teeth.

He looks fucking beautiful like this, skin flushed with arousal, sweat sliding down the dips and curves of his chest, his stomach, muscles standing out in stark relief as he holds himself tight, an animal waiting to pounce on their prey.

"Gotta move, baby, tell me I can move." Dean's voice is tight and strained, like the words are being ripped right from his vocal cords.

Seth rocks down against Dean's cock, testing the waters, and there's still a slight burn there, but he wants to feel Dean moving inside him, wants Dean to chase that feeling away with the skilled strokes of his cock, so he says, "Yeah, do it," wrapping a fist around himself, a slow, loose stroke that makes him clench down.

"Fucker," Dean says, grinning wide, and he pulls out, pushes back in, breath punched out of Seth's lungs, over and over until Dean's hitting that spot, Seth mewling and crying out, head tossed back against the bed, lost in the sound of skin slapping together, Dean's harsh breathing.

Dean doesn't last long, but Seth's right there with him, spilling hot and wet over his fist right on the heels of Dean's last few ragged thrusts, groaning and gasping and shaking as the pleasure ebbs and flows, leaving them boneless, sweaty, sated.

Seth winces as Dean pulls out, feels empty now without him there.

"You okay?" Dean asks, snap of the condom being tied off and thrown into the wastebasket.

Seth stretches, body aching in all the right ways. "Never better," he says, grinning. "I could use a shower, though."

Dean laughs, this low, soft sound that makes butterflies attack Seth's insides. "I'll join you."

The shower takes longer than it has any right to, but Dean finally seemed to notice the line of tattooed symbols along Seth's spine, and he had to put his mouth to them, had to trace each shape with his lips and tongue, and that led to wet handjobs under the shower spray, Seth weak-kneed and breathless by the end of it, Dean not faring much better.

They're back in bed now, dressed in boxers, and Seth groans at the sound of Kevin's paws scratching the door. He's fucked out, exhausted, and he doesn't want to move an inch.

"I'll take him out," Dean says, rubs a hand over Seth's shoulder, down his back.

Seth sighs and leans into it, feels his eyes start drifting shut. "Thank you," he says, voice barely more than a whisper, but Dean hears him, anyway, a kiss dropped to the top of his head, the bedroom door creaking open and shut, Dean's voice disappearing down the hall, Kevin's excited little yaps following.

 _I love you,_ Seth thinks, and it scares him, thrills him, stomach doing somersaults, but it makes him smile, makes his heart beat strong and hard in his chest.

He curls up on his side, waiting for Dean to come back to bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Angst, Skype dates, and sleepy confessions

* * *

It's lonely without Dean, and boring without having to be at work. There are only so many ways Seth can keep himself occupied, and with Dean being busy and traveling, that takes away a few of them.

He takes Kevin out to the dog park every morning after he finishes his workouts, when he's not too tired or sore, then he's back at home, on his ass on the sofa, watching tv or playing football.

It's brain-numbing, soul-crushing, and he doesn't know how he's managed to do this for years up until this point, and it's worrying that he's become so dependent on Dean to fill his time.

He's never met anyone like Dean before. Even with being a celebrity, a decently well-known name, he's level-headed, down to earth in a way that still takes Seth by surprise. He doesn't care for the people fawning all over him—not that he doesn't appreciate the adulation and support—and his life is his business, doesn't care for it to be plastered all over the internet, on social media sites, and it's why he doesn't have a Twitter, Instagram, or Facebook.

Seth can understand that, and he admires the fact that Dean hasn't caved under the pressure of the internet age, where everyone's business is out there for anyone to see. Yeah, Seth has a Facebook, a Twitter, and an Instagram, but there aren't hundreds and thousands of people watching his every move, waiting for him to make a mistake. He can post what he wants, say what he wants, and not have to worry about it being dissected and examined.

Dean doesn't have that luxury, and for someone as private as he is, Seth can see why he stays as far away from any and all social media.

Still, that doesn't mean there isn't a tiny part of him that wishes Dean had something—anything—he could look at, read.

He chastises himself for that every time the thought crosses his mind. He's already seeing so much of Dean, in person, over text, and it's more than anybody else in the whole world gets to see—with the exception of Roman.

Roman.

There's a sore point for Seth, and it makes his stomach dip and roll thinking of the things Roman could say to Dean to pull him away from their relationship—not that Dean has acknowledged that that's what it is.

Dean can say that it doesn't matter what Roman thinks, what anyone else thinks, but Roman's like family to him, and Dean will proclaim it emphatically, proudly, that Roman is his brother, his family, and if anyone were able to sway Dean's mind about what he and Seth are doing being a bad idea, it would be Roman.

Seth understands it's not an ideal situation, trying to have a relationship with the business Dean is in, but things happen, life happens, and they'd be stupid to let the chance of something so great slip them by.

 _Yeah, but how great can it be if he'll never be able to publicly acknowledge what you are to him?_

Seth hates that traitorous voice in his head. It keeps popping up with more frequency lately, and it dampens his mood, drags him down whenever he tries to focus on things that make him happy, that make him feel less lonely, and as much as he tries to ignore it, he can't.

There's so much truth in it, and he knows ignoring it isn't going to resolve anything, but he doesn't want to bring it up with Dean, doesn't want to make Dean feel like he's giving him some kind of ultimatum, because that's the last thing he wants to do. He's enjoying what he and Dean have and he doesn't want to ruin that.

But he knows there's going to come a time when they're going to have to have that discussion, and it fills him with dread, makes his heart ache, because he knows, he knows it's a discussion that isn't going to turn out in his favor, no matter how he feels about Dean, or how Dean may feel about him.

"Fuck," he says, groans, "quit being such a sad sack of shit, Rollins."

It's hard, though, to let it go, to think about anything else; it's like a dark cloud hanging over his head, following his every move.

He hadn't realized getting something he'd wanted so damn badly would result in him feeling like his heart is slowly breaking in two.

"Guess that's why they say to be careful what you wish for."

* * *

Seth's staring at the screen of his laptop, nervously chewing his thumbnail. Dean had sent a text a few minutes ago, said he was just checking into his hotel room for the night, and though this is far from being as good as seeing Dean in person, Seth will settle for being able to see and hear him over Skype.

Seth's still dressed in the clothes he changed into after his workout this morning: a ratty t-shirt that has a hole in the collar, an old pair of gym shorts, and his hair is thrown into a pile of curls on top of his head, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

His laptop chimes, playing that annoying jingle that signifies an incoming Skype call, and he takes a breath before connecting, the screen filling with Dean's blue eyes, his dimples, wet curls pushed off his forehead.

He looks so good it makes Seth ache with how badly he wishes Dean were with him.

"Don't you just look like a ray of sunshine?" There's a teasing lilt to Dean's voice, a playful look in his eyes.

Seth finds himself loosening, relaxing, settles back against the stack of pillows piled behind him. "Just tired, man. Same shit all the time."

"Why don't you take a vacation, go somewhere?" Dean asks, forehead scrunched.

It's not like Seth's never given it any thought, but who wants to take a vacation alone?

"I've thought about it," he says, "but I don't want to go anywhere alone. It'd still be boring, and I'd still be lonely."

Seth doesn't mean to admit it, but it slips out, the words hanging there. He feels his face heating up, his stomach doing somersaults; he didn't want Dean to know how fucking pathetic and miserable he is when Dean's not around, doesn't want to seem desperate and clingy and like his whole life now is devoted to Dean.

"Yeah, I know what you mean," Dean says. His expression is softer now, his eyes locked on Seth's face, the surprise Seth knows is showing there. Dean chuckles. "Don't look so surprised."

"I mean, I'm not, but I kind of am?" Dean's got Roman, his cousins Jimmy and Jey, and that's more than what Seth has.

"Having Roman and his cousins isn't the same," Dean says. "Yeah, it's great having them around, y'know, but Roman's got his wife and daughter, and Jimmy and Jey have their weird, freaky twin thing goin' on. It's like, just because you're surrounded by all these people, doesn't mean it's what you want or how you want it, know what I mean?"

Seth nods. "Guess I can understand that."

"What are you doing next week?" Dean asks, and the non-sequitur makes Seth's eyebrows raise.

"Probably the same thing I've been doing for the last couple weeks, why?"

"Okay, so"—Dean pauses, rubs his hands together as he grins—"why don't you come spend the week with me?"

Seth's eyes widen, and his jaw nearly drops. It sounds so good, a week with Dean, a week watching Dean do what he does best.

"C'mon," Dean says, playful and cajoling. "You know you want to."

Thing is, Seth does, but how is Dean going to play it? Isn't it going to be weird to everyone for some random guy to be hanging around? Girlfriends, wives, boyfriends, husbands, that's all easy to explain when you're straight. Is Dean going to say Seth's just a friend to anyone who asks? And more important, is Seth going to be able to handle being referred to as just a friend?

"Hey, you don't have to." Dean's expression is one Seth can't quite decipher, too much going on there on his face. It's a scrunch of his brows, downturned lips, and his eyes are blank, showing no emotion. It's not a look Seth likes.

"No," Seth says quickly, shaking his head. "I want to, man, of course I do."

"But?"

Seth shakes his head again. "No buts. It sounds like it'll be awesome."

Dean's expression clears, grin stretched across his lips. "Fuck, man, thought you were definitely gonna turn me down. Would've sucked since I already told Roman you were gonna be comin' along next week."

Some of Seth's excitement drains out at that, but he keeps the smile on his face—hard not to with the way Dean's looking at him. "Oh," he says. "What'd he say about that?"

Dean rubs a hand across his face, Seth's eyes following. Dean has such great hands, wide palmed and thick fingered, rough with calluses that make Seth shiver. "Said he was gonna get a room on the opposite side of the hotel," he says, smirking.

"What? Why?" As far as Seth's concerned, the farther Roman is from them, the better, but he's honestly curious about Roman's reaction.

"Because he doesn't want to hear me screwing my boyfriend's brains out, apparently."

Seth's heart does this weird thing in his chest, a slow, heavy thump that increases until he feels like Dean can see it beating through his skin, his t-shirt. Boyfriend. _Boyfriend._

"I don't exactly want Roman hearing my boyfriend screwing my brains out, either, so we're in agreement there." He forces the words out, pretends like he can't feel the heat in his face.

"You alright?" Dean asks. "You're lookin' a little flushed."

Oh, god, how embarrassing.

"Shut up, I'm fine," Seth says, hiding his face with his hands. He is fine, better than fine, fucking over the moon right now, but he doesn't need Dean to know that being called his boyfriend, being able to call Dean his boyfriend, is the best damn thing he's heard in who knows how long.

"Sure you are, boyfriend," Dean says, fucking winks, goddamn little shit.

"Oh, my god, stop." Seth's pretty sure his entire body is the color of a tomato, and the way Dean's laughing isn't helping any.

"Alright, alright," Dean says, holds his hands up. "But for real, if you didn't think that's what we were, you could've just asked."

"I know," Seth replies, swallowing down the nervous tremble threatening to crack his voice. "Didn't want you thinking I was being clingy or trying to push us into somewhere you didn't want us to go."

Dean shifts around, the rustle of fabric coming through the speakers of Seth's laptop. His eyes are serious, honest and open when they focus back on Seth, and Seth feels like he's in the middle of the ring, spotlight and thousands of eyes on him.

"Listen," Dean says, "I know what I'm doing here. I know how risky this is for my career, and I wouldn't still be here if I wasn't serious about this, alright? I know circumstances fuckin' suck, believe me, babe, I know, but I ain't messing around. This isn't some good time fling or whatever else might have crossed your mind. I wouldn't play around like that."

Seth swallows roughly, pushes down the lump in his throat. So many of his worries are soothed now, and he feels like he's floating, like he's walking on air, and he wishes Dean were here, wishes he could fold himself into Dean's arms, feel the reassuring beat of Dean's heart in his ear.

 _I love you._

"I didn't think you would," Seth says, "but there's always that doubt that sneaks in, y'know?"

Dean nods. "Yeah, I know."

With that discussion out of the way, they move onto lighter topics, about Dean flying into Iowa again, and them leaving together after Dean's two days off, all the things Seth wants to see, all the things Dean wants to show him, and Seth's thrumming with excitement, wired and alert, and even though it sucks having to say goodnight, Dean's face and voice disappearing, Seth's mind is filled with a million and one thoughts and it feels like he's never going to get to sleep.

He thinks about packing, wondering if he even has a suitcase big enough to hold everything he's going to need for a week or if he's going to have to go out a buy one, and if his mom will be okay with Kevin staying with her for the week.

He doesn't know how he's going to explain to her where he's going, and with who, but he'll worry about that later, when his body isn't thrumming like a livewire, eager and excited for an entire week with Dean.

His boyfriend.

Jesus.

* * *

Seth's a nervous jangle of excitement when Wednesday rolls around, and it's like Kevin's feeding off his emotions, hyper and yapping as he bounds through the house. It distracts Seth enough that he barely remembers to squeeze in lunch, and he isn't aware of how late it's getting until Kevin all but drags him outside, the sky slowly filling with purples and blues.

He leaves Kevin for a minute, hunting down his phone, finding it trapped between the cushions of his sofa.

7:53

There are no missed calls or messages, and Seth's stomach starts twisting, an embarrassed heat rising to his face.

Surely if there was a delay in his flight or something of the sort Dean would have called or at least sent a message to let him know he'd be getting in late, right? There's no reason he wouldn't have.

Dean's standing him up, isn't he? Something changed his mind and he's not coming anymore, and Seth was too stupid, too excited to do anything but believe everything Dean was telling him.

Maybe someone was finally able to talk some sense into him, make him realize the shit situation he's in because he decided he wanted to be with Seth.

His eyes burn, and he hates himself for it. He throws his phone back down to the sofa, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes.

He feels like such a fucking idiot right now.

Kevin starts barking again, and where Seth found it cute and amusing earlier, it's only grating on his nerves now, frustrating him even further.

"Dammit, Kevin, enough already." Seth goes back outside to bring Kevin in, but he's pulled up short, knees threatening to buckle.

Kevin's dancing around Dean's feet, barking in greeting, and Dean's trying to shush him, struggling with the bags he's carrying, and it's a relief so sweet Seth nearly cries with it.

He feels like a fucking baby, honestly.

He's almost 30; there's no reason he should be letting shit like this get to him.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes?" Dean's looking over at him now, a smile playing at his lips, and Seth eats up the distance between them as quickly as he can, throwing his arms around Dean's neck, not caring in the least about all the bags Dean has with him.

Dean smells like safety, like comfort, leather and sweat and deodorant, and Seth can't help the tremble that shakes him, the relieved sting of tears in his eyes.

There's the sound of bags hitting the grass, then Dean's arms are around him, hands moving up and down his back, and Seth never wants to move.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Dean's hands are cupping his face, thumbs brushing beneath his eyes.

Seth shakes his head, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth. He feels like such a shithead, doubting Dean, thinking Dean would lie to him, and he doesn't want to admit it, doesn't want Dean to know that he thought so lowly of him, even if for a minute.

"You pissed I'm late or something?" Dean's eyes are searching his, and Seth does his best to avoid the piercing stare of those blue, blue eyes.

He tries to move, but Dean's grip is firm, keeping him in place, and Seth takes a breath, lifts his eyes to Dean's, says, "I didn't think you were coming," voice small and tremulous.

Dean darts in, lips soft against Seth's, angling his head to the side to kiss him deeper, harder, stealing the breath from Seth's lungs.

"I wouldn't do that to you," Dean says, firm, serious, and Seth believes him, hates himself for even daring to doubt Dean. "Today was like a series of every bad thing possible happening. I was late to the airport, missed my flight, the next flight was delayed, my phone died, and I have no fuckin' idea where the hell the charger for it went."

Seth sways with the relief flooding through him, and he laughs softly, shaking his head. "Sounds like a hell of a day."

Dean hums softly, brushes his lips against Seth's once more, pulls back and says, "You don't even know the half of it. M'just glad to finally be here."

"Yeah, I'm glad, too." He grabs one of Dean's bags, slings it over his shoulder, heading back into the house, Kevin darting back and forth between him and Dean.

Dean follows behind him, and they end up in Seth's room, setting Dean's things off to the side, right next to where Seth's suitcases are packed.

"Looks like you're ready to get out of here." Dean nods down at the bags, a smile playing at his lips.

"God, yes," Seth says, running a hand through his hair, pulling it free from the loose ponytail it's in.

"It'll be fun, havin' you come along for a bit," Dean says, yawning. "Fuck, sorry, it's been a long day."

Seth waves off Dean's apology. "You wanna sleep?"

Honestly, Seth's not all that tired, but if Dean's ready to sleep—and he looks it, eyes drooping, fighting back another yawn—Seth's more than on board with that. There's very little that would keep Seth from crawling into bed with Dean.

Dean nods, scrubbing a hand over his face, through his hair, and Seth watches, heart hammering, as Dean pulls his shirt over his head, smooth, muscled skin shifting with every move. His boots are next, thumping against the floor, and then Dean's hands are at the button of his jeans, each tooth of the zipper like a firecracker in Seth's ear, pulled down past the curve of Dean's ass, down the tantalizing flesh of his thighs, and Seth's a little hard, twitching in his shorts.

"You gonna keep starin', or you gonna come do something about it?"

Seth jerks his eyes up to Dean's, and Dean's watching him right back, his eyebrow raised, a smirk on his lips, and Seth huffs out a laugh, closes the distance between them, pouring every ounce of himself into the kiss he lays on those smirking lips.

Dean groans into it, parts his lips under the press of Seth's tongue, and Seth licks into Dean's mouth, chasing the sounds Dean's making. Dean's mouth is hot, so hot, and Seth echoes Dean's groan, tongue flickering against every part he can reach.

"C'mon, bed," Dean says into the kiss, and Seth groans again, nodding his head as best as he can.

Their lips part for a minute, long enough for Seth to flop back onto the pillows, and then Dean's on him, hands pushing up Seth's shirt, and Seth can't fight back the shiver that zips up his spine at the feel of Dean's fingertips slowly moving up his stomach, up his chest, over the hardened buds of his nipples.

"Sit up," Dean says softly, and he helps pull Seth's shirt over his head when he does, blue eyes slowly being eaten by black, and then he's tugging Seth's shorts off, throwing them somewhere behind him, leaving Seth in a pair of boxer briefs.

He pushes Seth back down, and Seth goes easily, limbs splayed, Dean settling between the spread of his legs, hips lined up as Dean plants his hands on either side of Seth's head, warmth of his breath fanning out over Seth's skin before their lips are pressed together again, Seth's hips rocking up minutely at the feel of Dean's cock, hard against his own.

Seth digs his fingers into the skin of Dean's back, feels like he'd float right up to the ceiling if not for Dean grounding him, pressing into him, a welcome weight settled over him, and he shivers again, can't not, Dean's fingers sliding up and down his side, his hip, his thigh, hooking Seth's leg over his hip, grinding down so quick and fast it steals Seth breath.

Seth throws his head back, a soft, wet sound as his and Dean's lips separate, pulling in a deep breath that's exhaled as soon as Dean's lips land on his neck, sucking kisses along the line of his throat, along his collarbone, hips moving, rolling, rutting his dick against Seth's, trapped and leaking in his briefs.

"Fuck, just like that," Seth says, breathy, low, the words vibrating in his chest, and his body is singing, burning, heat pulling sweat to the surface of his skin.

Dean groans in response, keeps moving his hips, fingers digging in deeper, tighter on Seth's leg, and Seth loves it, wants it, wants there to be bruises for days, purple splotches in the shape of Dean's fingers for Seth to press his own into.

"So fuckin' hot, Seth, fuck," Dean says, bite of his teeth against Seth's shoulder, soothed by a swipe of Dean's tongue, and he groans, digs his fingers harder into Dean's back, uses it as leverage to rock his hips up, snug against the hard line of Dean's cock.

Seth gets lost in the rock of Dean's hips, the way his own dick is jerking, throbbing, leaking through the fabric of his briefs, the heavy sound of Dean's breathing, the rush of blood in his ears, the tingle in his spine that slowly spreads to the tips of his fingers, toes, back through to his cock, his balls, hiccuped moans and breaths falling from his lips, whispered cries of Dean's name, begging for more, harder, faster.

"C'mon, c'mon," he says, urges Dean to move faster, hands sliding down the sweat slick skin of Dean's back, down to his ass, sliding beneath the fabric to grip, squeeze, tip of his finger brushing over the tight clench of Dean's hole.

Dean comes like a shot, loud and sudden, and it takes Seth by surprise, Dean groaning and gasping in his ear, trembling against him, flex of his ass tightening and relaxing in Seth's hold, and his own orgasm creeps up on him, flows through him, soaking his boxers, his skin, heartbeat loud in his ears.

His hands slip from Dean's body as Dean rolls off and to the side, chest rising and falling rapidly as he slowly comes down.

Dean's laying on his side, head propped up in his hand, satisfied smile playing on his lips, and Seth doesn't even think twice, feather-soft kiss to those upturned lips.

"Missed you," Seth admits, feeling more vulnerable and bare than he has at any other moment before.

Dean brushes his thumb over the swell of Seth's bottom lip. "Missed you, too." Soft, heartfelt.

Seth smiles, relaxed, giddy, and he lays there for a moment longer, runs the tips of his fingers over every part of Dean's skin he can reach, until Dean's eyes start drooping again, his breathing slowing, evening.

He grimaces, rolling off the bed, pulling his briefs off and tossing them into the laundry hamper, quietly padding into the bathroom to grab a washcloth, soaking it in warm water and wiping himself clean. He rinses the cloth, wetting it again and wringing out the excess water, taking it back to the bed where Dean is sprawled out on his back, an arm flung over Seth's side of the bed, an open invitation for Seth to climb in and curl up into the warmth of Dean's body.

Seth tugs at Dean's boxers, gets them down and off before Dean's eyes flicker back open, sleepy blue looking at him in confusion.

"Didn't think you'd wanna sleep in that mess," he explains, shrugging a shoulder. "Just cleaning you up a little."

Dean nods, eyes closing. "Hurry up, m'cold."

Seth swipes the washcloth over Dean's soft cock, his balls, deeming it satisfactory enough for now, returning the cloth back to the bathroom before crawling into bed, settling against Dean's side as he pulls the blankets up and over them.

Dean's arm comes around his waist in an instant, and Seth turns onto his side, lets Dean pull him in close, Dean's nose pressed against the slope of Seth's shoulder, soft exhalations raising goosebumps over Seth's skin.

There's a slur of words pressed into the muscle of Seth's shoulder, and it stops Seth's heart, breath freezing in his lungs, but then Dean's snoring, soft little snuffles ruffling Seth's hair, and Seth finally breathes, a shaky exhale, words floating, racing through his mind.

 _Love you, Seth_


	5. Chapter 5

So begins their week together, and Roman appears, finally.

* * *

The words are stuck in the forefront of Seth's mind, loud, incessant, buzzing around like the beat of his heart, a hammering, heavy throb against his ribs.

Dean doesn't seem any different, like he isn't even aware of the words that slipped out, carries on in the morning like everything is the same, like Seth's world hasn't been tipped on its axis, and maybe Dean doesn't know what he said, isn't aware that the words slipped out, or maybe he's trying not to scare Seth away with the words, like maybe he thinks he said them too soon.

Seth tries to carry on like usual, tries to shove it to the back of his mind, but it's there, always there, Dean's sleep slurred voice a cacophonous sound rattling around in his skull.

It's a distraction, albeit a pleasant one, and it keeps Seth stuck in his head through the flight, through baggage claim, a cart piled high with his and Dean's bags that Dean is pushing in front of them, easily maneuvering his way through the crowd of people until they're outside.

It's warm out, the sun bright, and it instantly makes sweat start prickling along Seth's hairline, the nape of his neck, between his shoulderblades, and he wipes the back of his hand over his forehead, turns his head to where Dean's standing, and asks, "We tryin' to die of heatstroke out here or something?"

"Settle down, princess," Dean says, teasing. He has sunglasses on, hiding his eyes, but Seth's sure they're bright with laughter. "Waitin' on the damn car."

Seth sighs, rolls his neck. He needs shade, and air conditioning, and to change into something more suitable for the weather.

A black SUV rolls up then, windows tinted, and Dean starts pushing the cart of luggage forward, motioning for Seth to follow him.

It doesn't take long for Dean to throw their bags in the back, and after he returns the cart, he opens the back door, climbing in, Seth's eyes glued to the curve of his ass, the way his jeans cling and stretch over it, and he flushes when Dean turns back to him, an eyebrow raised.

"You gettin' in, or you gonna stay out there all day?"

Seth flushes even darker, heart lodged in his throat, because he knows that voice, has heard it countless times playing through the sound system in his living room, a deep, rich rumble that's currently making Seth want to say forget it, grab his things and fly back home, but Dean's reaching out for him, beckoning him in, and Seth takes his hand, climbs inside, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Seatbelts," Roman says, turned to the backseat where they're sitting. His eyes are like the toughest of steel, piercing, like they can see through into the core of Seth's being, and it's unnerving, unsettling.

"Fuckin' seatbelts," Dean grouses, makes a face that Roman can't see as he pulls it over his chest, and it makes Seth chuckle, breathing a little easier, fastening his own and pulling it tight.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Roman says, facing the front again, looking over his left shoulder before they start moving. "You'll be thankin' me when your ass ain't flyin' through the windshield."

"I'll be haunting your ass when it cuts my damn head off," Dean retorts, flicking the back of Roman's head.

Seth watches their interaction with a small smile on his face, a surge of fondness flooding through him at this new side of Dean, ignoring the nerves that are chewing at his stomach at being in such close proximity to two of the best professional wrestling has to offer, especially when those two are his boyfriend, and his boyfriend's best friend, a best friend who doesn't think they should be together.

"So, Roman, this is Seth," Dean says, and there's something off about the tone of his voice, a different quality to it that Seth's never heard before, but if he were to hazard a guess, he'd say it's a warning, a _watch yourself_.

"No shit," Roman says, sarcasm so thick it's almost a physical thing.

Dean kicks the back of Roman's seat, says, "Fuckin' smartass."

"It's uh—it's nice to meet you, man," Seth says, hating the nervous quake of his voice, how obvious it is that he's about to piss his pants.

"Yeah, you, too," Roman says, insincere, and he's already rubbing Seth the wrong way, making his hackles rise, but Seth swallows it down, takes in a deep, calming breath, because the last thing he wants to do is snap at Roman, ruin this whole week before it's really started, and he's Dean's best friend, Dean's family, and putting Dean between them is the fastest way for Seth to lose him, of that he's certain.

Dean offers him an apologetic smile that Seth returns half-heartedly, and he slouches down in the seat, feeling unwanted, unwelcome.

He sighs, keeps his eyes locked at his knees, and he only looks up when he feels Dean's hand on his, turning it over to lace their fingers together.

Whatever Roman's problem is, whatever issues he has, he knows that at least Dean wants him here, and that goes a long way in soothing the out of place feeling buzzing beneath his skin.

* * *

The rest of the drive is quiet, Dean's thumb brushing soothingly over the back of his hand, occasionally squeezing in reassurance, and Seth has to stifle the huge sigh of relief that's fighting to escape when they pull up to the hotel, Roman shifting the SUV into park before the doors unlock.

Dean squeezes his hand one last time before he lets go, and Seth undoes his seatbelt, opening the door and sliding out.

"Need help with the bags?" he asks, stretching.

Dean shakes his head. "Nah, I'll grab a luggage cart."

It doesn't take long for Dean to dig out their bags, piling them onto a cart, and Seth can't help but watch Roman, the look on his face, in his eyes, like he doesn't understand what Dean is doing, why he's not letting Seth take care of his own bags, and it makes Seth swallow roughly, so close to telling Dean he can take his own bags, that he doesn't need Dean to baby him, but Dean's already pushing the cart away.

Seth raises an eyebrow at Roman instead, feeling a sudden surge of boldness run through him. He's not going to spend this whole trip letting Roman intimidate him. "Problem?"

Roman's eyes narrow at him, and Seth won't deny that it makes his heart race, terrified that he may have bitten off more than he can chew, but Roman only shakes his head, scoffs, slamming the trunk shut with more force than necessary, making Seth jump.

Dean's walking through the hotel doors, and Seth races to catch up to him, hovering at his side while he checks in, ignoring the sharp looks Roman keeps sending him from Dean's other side.

Roman's not going to ruin this week for him, no matter how many distasteful looks he shoots at him.

The ride to the fourth floor feels more awkward than Seth remembers anything ever feeling, and when the doors slide open, Roman's following behind them.

"Thought you were gettin' a room on the opposite side of the hotel?" Dean asks, shooting a glance back at Roman.

Seth sees Roman shrug out of the corner of his eye, and his voice sounds even, bored, when he says, "Nah, someone's gotta keep an eye on you," but even Seth can tell it's anything but.

It makes him seethe silently in anger.

He's done nothing to warrant Roman's behavior, and he gets it, he does—Roman's just trying to protect his friend, but Roman isn't even trying to get to know him. It seems as though he's already made up his mind about everything between Seth and Dean, about who Seth is, and isn't willing to budge.

They stop suddenly in the corner of the hallway, Dean turning to face Roman, an eyebrow raised. "Man, seriously," he says, shaking his head. "I don't need a babysitter, Roman. What am I gonna do, buy a dozen prostitutes and bring them up to the room for the night?"

Seth knows Dean's joking, but even the thought of that makes his stomach turn.

"You ain't exactly thinkin' with your head, Dean," Roman says, and it makes Seth swallow roughly, makes his cheeks flush, his heart hammer. He knows Roman doesn't approve of their relationship, and he's doing nothing to hide that fact, but for him to say it so boldly in front of Seth?

It stings.

"Can I have the key to the room?" Seth asks, keeps his head tucked, his voice low. He doesn't want to be here anymore, would rather be at home bored out of his mind than here where he's being looked at like he's no better than dog shit on the bottom of someone's shoe.

Dean looks over at him, lips pulled down into a frown, but he hands Seth the room key, blue eyes full of apologies.

Seth can feel their eyes on him as he walks down the hall, but there's the sting of embarrassed tears in his eyes, a sick, churning feeling in his gut, and he releases a shaky breath when he's safely inside their hotel room, pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes.

He should just tell Dean that this was a bad idea, that he's not going to make things awkward in his friendship with Roman, that as much as Seth was looking forward to this, it's not worth the emotional toll it'll inevitably end up being for him.

But there's a bigger part, a louder part, that tells him to stick it out, that tells him that he can do this, that even Roman fucking Reigns isn't going to ruin this for him, because for all that Dean considers Roman family, Roman doesn't tell him what to do, Roman isn't his boss, and Dean is a goddamn adult who has made the decision to be with Seth, who has somehow miraculously fallen in love with Seth, and Seth isn't going to let Roman ruin that, isn't going to let Roman take that away from him, from them.

Seth squares his shoulders, takes a deep breath, slipping the keycard into his pocket. Dean and Roman are still standing in the corner of the hall, and whatever conversation they're having is one Seth's glad he isn't there for: it looks tense, strained, Dean's back and shoulders a stiff line, and Seth puts on a calm, unaffected face, strolling over to them, smoothing his hand down the center of Dean's back.

Dean's stance loosens, and his entire being seems more relaxed, soothed, at Seth's presence. "C'mon," he says, eyes narrowed in Roman's direction before he turns, gripping the luggage cart so tight his knuckles have gone white.

Seth swallows roughly, suppressing a smirk at the look of disbelief on Roman's face. Apparently Dean isn't going to be taking any of Roman's shit, either.

The door to their hotel room is barely closed, the cart not even out of the way, when Dean pushes Seth up against it, gripping Seth's hips tight, lips pressing together so hard Seth can feel the skin of his inner lip break against a tooth, but the urgency that Dean is kissing him with makes him so hard so fast, all he can do is groan into it, Dean's lips and tongue and teeth taking him apart in the way only Dean can.

"He ain't ruinin' this week for us," Dean says when he pulls away, flushed and breathless.

Seth nods, licks his lips, ignoring the throb of his cock inside his jeans, the whimper stuck in his throat at losing the feel of Dean pressed up against him. "Wasn't gonna let him," he says finally, voice hoarse and throaty.

"Good." Dean's eyes feel like a physical touch when they slowly move up and down his body, and Seth can't help but shiver slightly under that piercing gaze. "Mmm," he says, licks his lips, "later."

Seth groans in disappointment, Dean chuckling as he backs further away.

They remove the luggage from the cart, and Seth immediately digs through his bags, pulling out a pair of shorts and a black tank top. He kicks off his shoes, unbuttoning his jeans and sliding down the zipper, wriggling them down his hips and thighs.

Dean whistles, and Seth looks over at him, winking at the appreciative look Dean is giving him.

"Nope," Seth says, pulling his shorts up into place. "Later, you said."

It's Dean's turn to groan. "I ever tell you I make stupid decisions?" he asks.

Seth laughs, shaking his head. He pulls his shirt off, swapping it for the tank top, feeling cooler and more comfortable once he does. "We got time to eat?"

Dean nods. "Should be some places around here we can grab somethin' and not have to ask Roman to chauffeur us."

"Should've gotten our own car," Seth mutters. Not only would it mean not having to be confined in such a small space with Roman while driving from city to city, they'd be able to go wherever they wanted without having to ask Roman for the keys, or for him to drive them there—or worse, tagging along and intruding on their time together.

"I realize that now," Dean says with a shrug. He has his own change of clothes thrown on the bed: a pair of shorts that are almost identical to Seth's, and a plain black t-shirt, and he changes in a matter of seconds, flattening his hair back down once his fresh shirt is in place. "Alright, ready?"

Seth pats his pockets, double-checking for his phone and wallet, and nods when he finds them safely tucked inside.

"Room key?" Dean asks, and Seth grimaces, realizes if it weren't for Dean remembering it, they would've been locked out of their hotel room.

He grabs it from the pocket of his discarded jeans, brandishing it with a smile. "Now I'm ready," he says, sliding it in alongside his wallet.

Dean laughs softly, pulling the luggage cart along with him as he leads them out of the hotel room.

* * *

The restaurant Dean takes him to is more a cafe than anything, but it's a cute, quaint little place, and the food smells so good it makes Seth's stomach grumble.

They order their food at the front counter—which Dean insisted on paying for, actually slapping Seth's hand out of the way when he pulled out his wallet—and settle at a table in the far corner, out of the way of everyone else.

Seth chose a turkey wrap with a side of baked chips, and Dean chose a BLT with a side of sweet potato fries that he's already scarfing down, cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk with the amount of food in his mouth.

Seth eats a little more slowly, taking his time and savoring the taste of the food, and because he doesn't want to give himself the hiccups, which happens whenever he eats too fast. No need to embarrass himself in front of Dean when it can be completely avoided.

"You lookin' forward to tonight?" Dean asks, finally taking a break from shoveling food into his mouth. He's acting as though they didn't have time for breakfast before they left, even though they did, and it wasn't a small meal, either.

Seth swallows the bite in his mouth, washing it down with a drink of water. "Yeah, I am," he says, grinning. It's been awhile since the last time he was able to attend any wrestling event, and he's so fucking pumped for it now, so excited to see the action, so excited to see _his boyfriend_ in action he's a little dizzy with it, still having a hard time believing that this is his life.

"So," Dean says, dragging a fry through the pool of ketchup on his plate before shoving it into his mouth, "you've got a couple options."

"Options for what?" Seth asks, sits up a little straighter, intrigued.

"For where you wanna watch from," Dean says, a smirk on his face.

Yeah, it's obvious now, Seth realizes.

"Alright," Seth says, lays his hands flat on the table. "Hit me with my choices."

Dean lists his options, ticking them off on his fingers: backstage, from the in-house production area, or from a front row ringside seat.

"There are still some of those seats available?" Seth asks, head tilted to the side in question. It's the day-of, and even though it's only a house show, Seth assumed all those seats would be gone.

"Nah," Dean says with a shake of his head. "We usually hold some back just in case family or friends or partners or whatever wanna come out or somethin'."

"That makes sense," Seth says. He thinks over the choices, unsure of which he wants more, then realizes he has a handful of shows he'll be attending with Dean, that each night means a new spot to watch from. "I've never had a front row seat before."

"That's what I thought," Dean says, and it makes Seth's stomach fill with a comforting warmth at the thought that Dean knows him so well already. "I've got your ticket in the bag with my gear back at the hotel."

"What time do you have to be at the arena?" Seth finishes off the last bite of his turkey wrap and the few chips that are left on his plate, feeling comfortably full.

Dean looks around, presumably for a clock, and frowns a moment later. "Probably in an hour and a half or so," he says, looking down at his plate before he pushes it away. There are only a few stray fries left on it, soggy from the puddle of ketchup they're lying in.

"Guess we should head back then," Seth says. The hotel isn't that far away, but Seth walks slower when his stomach is full, and it's going to take longer to get back than it did to walk there.

Dean rises from his seat, pushing his chair in, and Seth follows suit, groaning at the slight tightness in his knee.

"You alright?" Dean asks, looking over at him.

Seth nods, breathing through the brief flair of pain that appears when he takes a step. "Sometimes my knee gets a little weird after sitting for awhile."

Dean frowns, and Seth swallows down the urge to pull him in and kiss it away. "You sure you're gonna be okay for tonight?"

"Yeah, man, I'll be fine," Seth says quickly. He doesn't want Dean thinking he should stay back at the hotel and miss all the fun stuff just because his knee is being a little fuck. "I just gotta take some ibuprofen and I'll be good to go."

"You sure?" Dean's concern is touching, but Seth has been dealing with his knee and all its issues for almost ten years, and he knows his limits better than anyone.

"Promise," Seth says, offering Dean a soft smile.

"Alright." Dean's still looking at him like he isn't quite sure he believes Seth, but it doesn't really bother him like it would if it were anyone else. He understands Dean's concern, would be the exact same way if it were any kind of injury nagging at Dean.

Seth leads them out into the warm summer air, wishing he had remembered to bring along a pair of sunglasses, the sun high and bright, annoying. Dean's walking beside him, chewing on a piece of a gum, and Seth's gotten so used to the feel of Dean's hand against the small of his back while they're walking that he feels unsettled without it, like he's missing something big, vital.

He gets it, though, that this is how it's going to have to be when they're out in public in a city infinitely bigger than the tiny little town he lives in, and while he doesn't like it, he understands that it's part and parcel of being with Dean.

Dean is quiet beside him, but Seth doesn't mind. There are too many people along the sidewalks for them to have any real conversation, and it's a welcome relief when the hotel finally comes into view.

The elevator is empty when they make their way inside it, and Seth inches his way closer to Dean, flirting the tips of his fingers along the line of Dean's waist. Dean grabs his hand, holds it tightly in his own, using it to spin Seth around so they're face to face, Seth's eyes drawn to the pink of Dean's lips, the flash of tongue that peeks out, but the elevator dings, doors sliding open for Seth can move in.

Dean drops his hand, and Seth swallows the sigh threatening to escape. He knows there isn't anything he can do about it, and it's best for him to get used to it now, even if it leaves a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"You gonna change before we go?" Dean asks, once they're back inside their hotel room.

"Yeah," Seth says, picking through the pile of their luggage for his suitcases. He realizes that if he keeps changing as often as he has been, he's going to run out of clothes well before the week is up.

"Here." A shirt lands on Seth's head and he pulls it off, shaking it out to see that it's one of Dean's official shirts, his logo emblazoned across the front. "Wear that."

Seth shrugs, pulling his shirt off before he slips Dean's on, a looser fit than he's used to, but it smells like his fabric softener, like Dean, and he barely resists lifting it to his nose to get more of that scent that's surrounding him, comforting him.

"I thought you looked good outta clothes," Dean says, blue eyes simmering with heat when Seth looks over at him, "but you look—goddamn, Seth."

Seth feels warm down to his toes, a flush rising to his cheeks. "Shut up," he says, an overwhelming sense of bashfulness stealing over him.

"Mmmm, nah," Dean says, moving closer, closer, hands on Seth's hips, slipping under the t-shirt, skirting over the skin of his belly. The warmth of his breath tickles, sends shivers down Seth's spine, pressed flush against Seth's back. "Gonna fuck you later in just this shirt, bend you over and pound your tight ass."

Seth sucks in a sharp breath, cock jerking in his shorts. He lolls his head back against Dean's shoulder, his hands covering Dean's, pushing them down over the hard line tenting his shorts. "C'mon, touch me," he says, voice a breathy whisper.

Dean rubs him through his shorts, his mouth wet, warm, where it's pressed against Seth's neck, and he can feel Dean, hard against the curve of his ass. "How fast you think you can come?"

Pretty damn fast, if he's being honest. There's just something about Dean that gets him there embarrassingly fast, and with the way Dean's hand is moving, squeezing up and down his dick, playing around the head, he knows it won't take much.

"Touch me, Dean," Seth says, more urgent, rolling his hips up into Dean's hand.

Dean's teeth graze his neck, and Seth can feel precome blurt out from his dick, breathing a little faster. "M'already touchin' you, babe."

Seth grits his teeth. "You know what I mean."

Dean chuckles, low and deep in Seth's ear, slipping his hand under the waistband of Seth's shorts, his boxers, curling around the length of his dick, short, quick strokes that steal all the breath from Seth's lungs, has him biting his lip to stop the moans that are valiantly trying to fight their way out.

"C'mon, babe, lemme feel you come," Dean whispers, low and filthy in Seth's ear, rocking his hips against Seth's ass, his own breathing labored.

Seth chokes on a gasp, digs his fingers into Dean's forearm. "You, too," he pants, words forced out between heaving breaths. "Want you to come, too."

Dean groans, and Seth swears he can feel the vibration of Dean's chest against his back. "I will, later. S'for your right now. Wanna make you feel so good, Seth."

Seth stifles the flair of disappointment that flickers in his chest, instead focusing on the feel of Dean's callused fingers moving up and down his cock, the precome that's slicking the glide of Dean's hand, the way Dean's hips keep grinding against his ass, like Dean isn't even aware of it, and it doesn't take long before his balls are pulling up tight, cock throbbing in Dean's hand.

"Y'all ready yet?" A loud, insistent knock at the door, Roman's voice floating through it.

Goddammit.

"C'mon, Seth, c'mon," Dean urges, fist flying over Seth's cock as best as he can with how it's still restrained in his shorts, "come for me."

Seth bites down on his bottom lip, holding his breath as he comes, spurting hot and wet over Dean's fist.

"I swear to God I will leave your asses," Roman bellows, pounding on the door again.

"Fuckin' hold on a minute," Dean shouts back, pulling his hand free of Seth's shorts.

Seth's legs feel like jelly, and his heart is still pounding in his chest, but the mellow high of his orgasm isn't there, instead replaced by irritation, frustration, and he hates it, hates that what should've been a phenomenal orgasm was ruined by Roman being a jackass.

"Get cleaned up," Dean says, places a soft kiss to Seth's lips before disappearing into the bathroom, water running a few moments later.

Seth sighs, stripping off his shorts and boxers, swapping them for fresh, clean clothes. He redoes his hair, throwing it back into a loose bun at the nape of his neck, pulling a baseball cap over it. Dean emerges from the bathroom then, breath smelling minty fresh.

"I'll give you your ticket in the car," Dean says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. "C'mon, before Roman either breaks down the damn door, or actually does leave us here."

Seth follows Dean out the door, ignoring the pointed look Roman is giving them, along with the pissed off set of his shoulders.

Serves him right for not bothering to call or text before deciding to pound on their door like a goddamn madman.

* * *

Seth's excitement droops as the last match finishes, Dean laid out for the three count. "Dammit, c'mon!" he shouts, running a frustrated hand over his face.

Dean's been on a terrible losing streak as of late, and it sucks. Dean's good, so fucking good, and he deserves that title, deserves fucking everything, but he's stuck in a rut, hasn't been able to catch a win where it matters, if at all.

Seth lets out a sigh as Dean slowly makes his way out of the ring, sweaty, his shoulders slumped, an arm wrapped around his waist.

All the lights go on, and the arena slowly starts to empty. Seth drags his feet as he moves, making his way backstage, flashing the badge Dean gave him. The hallways are packed, people milling about everywhere, and it takes a lot of careful maneuvering to dodge all the bodies and not run into anyone.

The door to Dean's locker room is closed, and Seth raps his knuckles against it before pushing it open, heart dropping to his stomach at the sight of Dean sitting there, head in his hands, Atlas with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Seth shuts the door quietly, keeps his footsteps light as he makes his way across the room, dropping to his knees in front of Dean. There's an ache there, dull as it is, but that's nothing in the face of the defeated aura surrounding Dean.

He wraps his hands around Dean's wrists, brushing his thumbs against the bones there. "Hey," he says, keeps his voice soft, offers a small smile.

The smile Dean gives him is tight, strained, and his eyes are dull, tired.

"Let's get outta here," Seth says, swallowing around the ache in his throat. The sight of Dean looking so tired and defeated isn't one Seth likes, and it's heartbreaking, upsetting, to see someone as cool and calm, as strong as Dean, look so fucking done with everything.

Is this how it is for him every time?

The thought makes Seth's stomach turn.

Dean sighs, squeezes Seth's hands briefly before he stands, pulling Seth up with him. Dean moves around silently, packing his bag, and all Seth can do is watch, his heart aching.

Roman's waiting outside Dean's locker room, face expressionless, but he sets a hand on Dean's shoulder and squeezes once before he moves away, leading them through the busy halls out to the parking lot.

The drive back to the hotel is quiet, and it's only broken when they finally pull up to the entrance and Roman says, "Gotta be to the airport by 10. Try not to be late."

Seth narrows his eyes at the tone of Roman's voice, but he says nothing, stifling his sigh, pushing the door open instead so he can slide out, Dean right behind him.

It takes him by surprise when Dean takes his hand, lacing their fingers together, and he knows he should shake the hold, knows that it's too risky of a move, but the set of Dean's shoulders has him holding on tight, knowing Dean must need the comfort and solidity of Seth beside him if he's allowing the public display of affection.

It's a relief to finally get back to their hotel room, to pull Dean into him, his arms around Dean's waist, his head on Dean's shoulder, hat thrown carelessly to the bed. "You're still my favorite," he says, smoothing his hands down Dean's back.

Dean chuckles softly, says, "I better be," gritty and rough.

"Alright," Seth says, pushing away slightly, "as much as I love being in your arms, you kinda stink."

Dean raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, well, now you do, too."

"Who says that wasn't part of my plan?" Seth asks, raising an eyebrow of his own in return.

Dean hums, tugging Seth in by his shirt. Their lips are so close together that Seth can feel every movement of Dean's lips when he says, "Guess we better shower, huh?"

Seth can get behind that.

Dean retreats into the bathroom after unlacing and toeing off his shoes, and Seth follows behind, watching the flex of muscle in Dean's arms and back as he pulls off his muscle shirt, unbuckles his belt and pushes down his jeans, standing there in nothing but a tight pair of boxer briefs.

"Stop starin' and come join me already," Dean says over the sound of water pouring from the spout in the shower.

Seth finally moves, pulling off his shoes and socks before he strips off his shirt, his shorts, his boxers, tugging his hair loose from the ponytail so it cascades down his shoulders.

Dean's already standing under the shower spray when Seth finishes undressing, and he doesn't waste anymore time before stepping in with him, moving his hands up and down the wet slopes of Dean's neck, his chest, settling at Dean's hips before Dean spins him, his chest flush against Seth's back.

"Thank you," Dean says into his ear, his arms wrapped around Seth's waist.

"Mmm, for what?" Seth asks, rests his hands on Dean's forearms.

"For bein' you," Dean replies, kisses the shell of Seth's ear.

They stay that way for a minute, Seth wrapped in Dean's arms, hot water streaming down on them, before Seth maneuvers them around, grabbing the hotel shampoo and scrubbing it through Dean's wet hair, massaging his fingers against Dean's scalp.

Dean's pliant against him, groaning, and it makes Seth grin, Dean like a damn cat, arching into his touch.

"Close your eyes," Seth says, tipping Dean's head back into the stream, rinsing the shampoo from his hair. He grabs the bar of soap then, removing it from its wrapper before he moves it over Dean's body, his neck to his chest, over his pecs, his nipples, biting his bottom lip when they pebble beneath his touch.

He soaps up Dean's stomach, his hips, bypasses his thickening cock and balls to suds up Dean's thighs, his calves, Dean lifting his feet without being asked. Seth pats his hip to get him to turn then, working back up to the curve of Dean's ass, spending a little more time there than necessary, dipping between Dean's asscheeks to swipe a soaped up finger over his asshole, suppressing a moan of his own when Dean clenches down against him, a shaky groan spilling out over the sound of the water.

God, Seth wants to slide his fingers in there, get Dean stretched for his cock, slip inside that tight heat until Dean's wrecked, begging and crying out for more.

Seth moves when he realizes he's been still for too long, soaping up the broad expanse of Dean's back, his shoulders, down his arms to his wrists when Dean turns to face him again, sliding the small bar of soap over Dean's hands, the callused skin of his palms, his fingers.

Dean is hard, cock curving up towards his belly, and Seth closes a soaped up fist around it, stroking smoothly from root to tip, brushing his thumb over the head.

Dean grips his hip, his eyes closed, bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Seth has never seen anything so fucking breathtaking. He keeps his strokes tight, eyes darting between the expression on Dean's face and the sight of Dean's cock slipping through his fist, his own dick hard and aching.

"Fuck," Dean says, groans, blue eyes flickering open. "Shit, babe, stop. Still wanna fuck you."

Seth swallows roughly, chews on his bottom lip before he shakes his head. "No," he says, surprised by the strength in his voice. As badly as he wants to feel Dean inside him, taking him apart and piecing him back together, he wants tonight to be about Dean. "Lemme take care of you."

Dean acquiesces quicker than Seth would've thought, nodding his head. "Better make it good."

As if Seth wasn't already worried about being able to make Dean feel good. He laughs off his anxiety, however, pushes Dean under the spray to rinse his body off before he tosses the bottle of shampoo at Dean's chest, tells him, "Shut up and wash my hair."

"Bossy, bossy," Dean says, lighthearted and playful, stepping out of the water and wiping a hand over his face.

Seth's wetting his hair when he's pulled back against Dean's chest, Dean's hands scrubbing through his hair, a little rougher than Seth likes, but the touch of Dean's fingers against his scalp still has chills racing up and down his spine, and it's only bettered by the fact that he can still feel Dean's erection against his ass.

"Alright, princess," Dean says, "time to rinse."

Seth quickly rinses his hair, scrubs the bar of soap over his body quick and thorough, feeling warmed to his core with the way Dean is watching his every move. He shuts off the water and wrings out his hair, and Dean's waiting outside the shower with a towel that Seth gratefully accepts, scrubbing it through his hair before he wraps it around his waist, brushing his teeth before retreating back out into the main room.

Dean's still in the bathroom, shaving, and it gives Seth a few minutes to scrounge up the small bottles of complimentary lotions, and he sets them on the nightstand beside the bed, nerves eating at his stomach while he waits for Dean to emerge.

It's not that he thinks he won't be able to please Dean, not really, because Dean seems to love everything he does to him, for him. It's just a lot is all, Dean letting him take control like this, trusting him enough to hand the reins over to him, even if it's only for a night.

 _He loves you, you idiot_.

There's that, too, but Seth's done his resolute best to put it to the back of his mind. It's only been a couple of months—not that Seth thinks there's any set amount of time that should pass before declarations of love are exchanged—and he doesn't want to rush into things anymore than they already have. He knows how he feels, knows how Dean feels—even if Dean isn't aware of it—and he doesn't want to ruin things by saying it out loud. He knows that saying it will give Dean so much more power to hurt him, even if he doesn't think Dean ever will, but nothing is ever certain, nothing in life is a guarantee, and as good as things are between them now, who's to say things will remain that way a few months down the road?

"Penny for your thoughts," Dean says, standing in front of him.

Seth jerks his gaze up, shaking his head to rid the mood dampening thoughts floating through his head. "Just wonderin' how much longer it was gonna take your pokey ass," Seth says, grinning up at Dean.

Dean throws the towel that was wrapped around his waist at Seth's face, making Seth yelp before he throws it right back.

"Alright, c'mon," Seth says, rising to his feet, "lay down on your stomach."

Dean tosses the towel away, settling on his stomach without a word. Seth swallows roughly at the sight, all that skin and muscle laid out before him, and it makes his palms sweat, makes his heart race, but it also makes his cock twitch, heat pooling low in his belly.

He sheds the towel, tossing it next to Dean's, climbing up on the bed and reaching over for the small bottles of lotion before he seats himself on Dean's lower back, legs on either side of Dean's waist. There are patches of scar tissue across Dean's upper back and arms, and he runs the tips of his fingers over each line and knot before he moves up to Dean's shoulders, smoothing his hands over muscle.

His hands catch and drag, Dean's skin still slightly damp, and he takes a bottle of lotion, pours some into the palm of his hands then rubs them together before he puts them back on Dean's shoulders, squeezing and kneading, thumbs digging in to work out the knots that have built up.

"Shit, that's good," Dean says, sighing softly.

It makes the ball of anxiety in Seth's chest loosen, and he moves his hands up and down Dean's back, working out every tense muscle he can until Dean is sprawled boneless and loose beneath him.

"Feel good?" Seth asks, voice hushed.

"Uh huh," Dean says, nods, breathing deep and even, looking more relaxed than Seth's ever seen him.

He scoots back so he's perched on Dean's thighs, breathing increasing as he lotions up his hands again, moving them over the muscled flesh of Dean's ass. He doesn't linger there long, has more plans for it later, scooting back again so he can get to Dean's thighs, his calves, his feet, long sweeps of his fingers over the delicate arches, back up to the defined muscles of his calves, the bend of his knees, pushing Dean's legs apart when he gets back to his thighs.

It spreads Dean open a little, and it makes Seth's mouth go dry, that perfect little space there, drawing Seth's eyes like a beacon. More lotion and Seth's hands are back on Dean's ass, massaging the pale flesh until his thumbs are sweeping between Dean's asscheeks, skimming over his asshole.

"This okay?" Seth asks, holding his breath as his touches grow bolder, pad of his thumb resting right against that spot.

Dean exhales shakily, but he nods, head turned to the side so Seth can see the way his lips part, the flash of pink as his tongue darts out to wet his lips.

Seth circles his thumb over Dean's hole, barely any pressure at all, but Dean's hips are moving minutely, tiny shifts back against Seth's touch. The sight makes Seth's dick throb. He ignores it, focusing all his attention on Dean, on making Dean feel good.

He keeps his thumb where it is as he moves back, bent over at the waist so he can skim his lips over the small of Dean's back, the curve of his ass, biting back a grin at the small moan Dean emits. He nips his way inward, tiny red marks blossoming over the pale flesh, his mouth taking place of his thumb.

"Holy shit," Dean says on a groan, and his reaction makes Seth grow bolder, has him licking over the pucker of Dean's hole with thick swipes of his tongue, tasting soap and lotion and Dean.

Dean's so responsive, gasping and moaning at every little thing Seth does, and he gets so lost in it, the sounds Dean's making, the feel of him beneath his tongue, and he uses every trick he knows, everything he likes done on him, moves his tongue in circles, in soft, broad licks, pointing his tongue and pressing it in, and Dean's losing his mind beneath him, gripping the sheets, moaning unabashedly, rutting his cock against the bed and rocking back against Seth's face, and it's so good, so fucking good, Seth wants to do this for the rest of his fucking life.

"Can you—" Dean chokes out, words cut off by a moan that rips through him.

Seth knows what Dean's asking for, anyway, doesn't need him to verbalize it, and he fumbles for the lotion blindly, getting some on his fingers before he tosses it away, pulling his mouth away from Dean's ass to replace it with his fingers, brushing them back and forth over the tight hole before he pushes one in, Dean soso hot around him.

Seth keeps his free hand on Dean's lower back, a touch to anchor him, ground him. Dean's rocking his hips back and forth, and Seth's never seen anything so fucking hot, Dean's ass flexing with every move he makes.

"You look so fuckin' good, Dean," Seth grits out, voice rough like sandpaper. He slides another finger in, crooking them up against Dean's prostate, rocking them back and forth when Dean starts cursing, mouth opening and closing silently before he groans, long and deep, hips stilling for a moment before they start moving again, his entire body trembling and shaking as he clenches down tight around Seth's fingers.

Fuck, but Seth wishes it were his cock.

"Fuckin' shit, Seth," Dean says, cracking his eye open.

Seth pats Dean's ass, pulling his fingers free and wiping them on the bedspread. "Good?" he asks, flopping down beside Dean.

Dean nods, tongue darting out to swipe over his lips again. "Gonna hafta do that 'gain," he slurs out, closing his eyes again.

Seth feels smug, pleased. "Just say the word."

"Mmmm, what 'bout you?" Dean asks, flings his arm out until it hits Seth's stomach, moving down, down, until he gets to Seth's dick.

Seth groans, wants to rock up into the touch, but he swats Dean's hand away. "Later," he says, willing away his erection. "Tonight was about you, 'bout me makin' you feel good. You can get me off later."

"How'd I get so damn lucky?" Dean asks, blue of his eyes peering up at Seth.

Seth shrugs, fighting back a smile. "You gonna lay in the wet spot all night?"

Dean grimaces. "Didn't think about it 'til now," he says, rolling over onto his back.

Seth lays there, watching Dean, the fan of his lashes sweeping over his cheeks every time he blinks, the bob of his throat when he swallows, the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes.

"Okay, get up," Dean says suddenly, rolling to his feet between one breath and the next.

Seth blinks up at him, an eyebrow raised, but he climbs off the bed, oddly turned on by the moves of Dean's naked body, the shifting and rolling of muscle beneath all that pale skin.

The bedspread ends up on the floor, thrown on top of the towels they dropped there earlier, and Dean pulls the sheets down before slipping under them, letting out a deep sigh. "Get your ass over here," he calls out, rubbing his hand in a circle over the space next to him, and Seth climbs back onto the bed, sliding into the space beside Dean, his head on Dean's chest.

Seth's eyes fall shut at the feel of Dean's fingers carding through his hair, a warm, pleasant buzz humming beneath his skin, and he feels sated, fulfilled, almost as if Dean's orgasm was his orgasm.

"G'night, Dean," Seth murmurs sleepily, wraps his arm tight around Dean's waist.

Dean presses a kiss to the top of his head, says, "Goodnight, Seth," beat of his heart even and soothing beneath Seth's ear.

He's almost asleep when he hears Dean's voice again, voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Don't know what I'd do without you, Seth. Scares me so much how bad I need you. Got me feelin' like an idiot sometimes 'cause I just wanna do everything I can to make you happy. Just wish I could give you more."

Seth's heart starts hammering, and it takes everything in him to keep his breathing calm and even, not alert Dean to the fact that he's still awake, but jesus, why can't Dean tell him these things when he's actually awake?

Seth doesn't know what he'd say, anyway. Probably start blubbering and crying like a fool, making an embarrassing spectacle of himself in front of Dean.

But it scares him, too, how much he needs Dean, how he's gotten so used to Dean being in his life, and he doesn't even want to imagine a day where Dean isn't his. He knows, though, that anything could happen, anything could change, and it fills him with dread, makes a knot form in the pit of his stomach, a lump in his throat, to entertain the thought of Dean being gone.

It's a fitful sleep for Seth, even wrapped in the safety of Dean's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

confrontations, confessions, and apologies, oh, my!

* * *

Like Dean's sleepily murmured _I love you_ , Seth tries to ignore his hushed confession for the rest of the week, pushing it as far back in his mind as he can, wanting to focus on Dean, the time they have together, but it's not as easy as he wishes it was.

He can see the words there in the look in Dean's eyes, the way they go soft sometimes when Dean is looking at him, the way they always seem to be smiling even when his lips aren't whenever they're together, the way he touches Seth, like Seth is something special, fragile.

It's not that Seth doesn't love and appreciate it, because he does. He's never been with someone who's as into him as Dean is, has never been with someone who he loves with his whole heart, with every breath in his lungs, but he wishes Dean would say it as much as he shows it.

Seth knows he could say something, too, that everything shouldn't rest solely on Dean, but every time the words are there, lingering on the tip of his tongue, he just can't seem to spit them out, heart like a racehorse in his chest, mouth gone bone dry, and it doesn't seem to help that there never seems to be a right time.

Dean's life is busy, hectic, moving from one city to the next, trying to squeeze in workouts between showing Seth around the towns they end up in before he has to be back at the arena for that night's show, surrounded by Roman—who seems to be more disapproving with every fucking minute that passes—or crew members or other guys on the roster, and there just isn't time.

Not even when they get back to the hotel for the night, because Dean is still stuck in a rut, loss after loss taking their toll on him, and all Seth can do is wrap his arms and legs around Dean as tight as he can when they're lying in bed together, reassuring Dean that he's fucking amazing at what he does, that it's just a rough patch, that he'll come out on top soon enough.

The week ends far sooner—or maybe not soon enough—than Seth would have liked, and before he knows it, Roman's driving to the airport, Seth and Dean piled into the backseat.

"You goin' home, Dean?" Roman asks, looking over his shoulder and smoothly changing lanes.

Dean nods. "Yeah. Haven't been home in awhile. Not sure I even know where my house is anymore," he jokes, throwing Seth a wink that makes him grin.

"You sure you gonna be able to go that long without seein' Seth?" It's sarcastic, mocking, and if Roman wasn't driving, Seth would probably whack him across the back of his stupid head.

"Seth's actually comin' home with me," Dean replies through gritted teeth. Seth reaches for his hand that's laying on the seat between them, tangling their fingers together and squeezing.

Roman scoffs, shaking his head. "That really a good idea, man?"

"I think it's a great idea, actually," Seth speaks up, keeps his tone as cool and placid as he can. "There's no reason we shouldn't be able to bounce between the two while I'm off work."

"Really? You see no problem with that?"

Seth inhales through his nose, lets it out slowly through his mouth. "What, you think I'm gonna fucking sell his address or let everyone know where he lives? You think I'm that shitty of a person?"

"Seth, it's okay," Dean says softly, shaking his head.

It's not okay, and Seth has had enough. He's had to deal with Roman's needling, belittling comments all week, and he thought he could brush them off, thought he could let them go, but this is the final straw. He is not going to sit idly by and let Roman accuse him of being a scummy person whose sole intention of going home with Dean is to find out his address and sell it or paste it all over the place online.

"It's really not okay at all," Seth says, anger surging through his veins. "I've done nothing at all to deserve the bullshit way he's been treating me, and for him to act like I'm some piece of shit boyfriend who's only with you to fuckin' give your address away or whatever the fuck he thinks is complete bullshit.

"So what if I'm not a wrestler like y'all are, that I'm just some lowly fucking teacher from Nowhere, Iowa, that I'm not good enough for you, because the important thing like the fact that you make me happy, that I make you happy, means shit to him because he's so goddamn busy being concerned about me fucking outing you or something when that's the last motherfucking thing I'd do."

Seth's nearly shouting by the time he runs out of steam, and he hates that there are angry, frustrated tears pooling in his eyes. It makes him feel weak, pathetic.

"That's not—"

"Fuckin' save it, Roman," Dean says, cutting him off. His voice is hard, the toughest of steel, and it makes Seth feel even worse, Dean stuck in a place Seth didn't want him to be: between his best friend and his boyfriend.

Seth feels wrung dry.

Dean unfastens his seatbelt, the look on his face just daring Roman to make a comment, and slides across the seat, unfastening Seth's as well, and Seth all but collapses into his arms, taking comfort in the the feel and smell of Dean surrounding him.

They stay that way until Roman pulls the SUV up to the curb of the drop-offs, then they're both scrambling out to grab their things as quick as they can, not even bothering with a luggage cart this time. Seth just wants to get checked in, get on the plane, and get to Dean's house already. He's fucking done with today, and he's dreading the fallout of his outburst.

* * *

It's early evening by the time they finally make it to Dean's house, and Seth's too tired to really take any of it in. He lets Dean guide him into the living room, and he collapses onto the sofa once it's in sight.

"Hey, lazyass," Dean says, swatting at his ass, "you gonna help bring your bags off?"

Seth groans, shakes his head. "Jus' leave 'em for now."

Dean tugs on his leg, fingers around the bones of his ankle. "C'mon, get up. I wanna go eat soon."

Seth grumbles to himself, taking a moment longer to embrace the comfort of Dean's sofa, then he's pushing himself up, narrowing his eyes at Dean before he drags himself out the door.

It only takes a few minutes to get all their bags into the living room, and Seth finally takes a minute to look around.

Dean's house is infinitely nicer than his, is his first thought. The floors are all gleaming hardwood, stretched from wall to wall throughout, and in the living room there's a gorgeous fireplace surrounded by white bricks that Seth immediately starts fantasizing about having sex in front of.

The sofa is a cream colored sectional, pillows all over it, and from the few minutes Seth's already laid on it, it's probably one of the most comfortable pieces of furniture he's ever had the pleasure of using.

Beside the sofa are dark hardwood end tables, and there's a matching coffee table and entertainment stand as well. There's a large flat screen television atop it, and the size of it makes Seth envious. Yeah, his own tv is fairly large, but Dean's is almost twice the size.

The living area transitions into the dining area and kitchen, all stainless steel appliances, double ovens, chef's stove, granite countertops, and if Seth were one to get a hard-on over kitchens, Dean's would be like a wet fucking dream.

It's nothing at all like Seth had imagined, yet somehow it fits Dean perfectly.

"Ready to go?" Dean asks, weight of his chin on Seth's shoulder, his hands on Seth's hips.

Seth turns his head, lips brushing against Dean's. "Yeah," he says, pulling back and turning in Dean's arms. "Let's go get you fed before you decide to eat my arm."

"Wouldn't be your arm I'd be eatin'," Dean says with a filthy grin.

Seth laughs, shakes his head. He really walked right into that one. "Alright, Casanova, that's enough outta you. Let's get out of here before I take you up on that."

Dean hums, eyes slowly scanning up the length of Seth's body. "Yeah, I'm thinkin' I'd much rather be eatin' you."

Seth groans, feels a shock of heat race up his spine. He circles his fingers around Dean's wrist, dragging him out of the house, knows that if they don't get moving soon, their clothes are going to end up on the floor and Dean's filthy mouth is going to be put to even better use.

Dean drives them to a small Italian restaurant, and Seth's stomach starts rumbling as soon as they enter, the scent of the food making his mouth water.

They're led to a table off to the side, menus placed down on the table by the maître d' before she's excusing herself, letting them know their waiter will be right with them.

Seth scoots his chair in closer to the table, taking a moment to look around.

The lights are dim, creating a warm, inviting atmosphere, and the tables are covered in deep red tablecloths, the padding of the chairs the same matching shade. It's a comfortable, quaint place, and if the food's good, Seth could easily see this becoming one of his favorite places.

The waiter appears before Seth has a chance to look over the menu, and he offers an apologetic smile as he glances through it.

"Take your time," the waiter says. "I'll give you a minute while I go get your drinks."

"Thank you," Seth says with a little nod of his head. He looks over at Dean then, taking in the downturn of his lips, the slant of his eyes. "What?"

"Nothing," Dean says, eyes sliding back down to the menu opened in front of him.

"Not nothing," Seth says, knows Dean well enough to know when something's bothering him, and something is definitely bothering him.

"Just didn't like the way he was lookin' at you," Dean grumbles, fingers rubbing at his chin.

Seth swallows roughly. He folds his hands together and rests them on top of his own menu, removing the temptation of reaching out to grab Dean's hand. "I didn't even notice," he says truthfully.

"I noticed," Dean says with a frown. "Needs to keep his eyes off of you if he knows what's good for him."

That probably shouldn't turn Seth on as much as it does, but there's almost nothing about Dean that he doesn't find stupidly attractive.

"Hey," Seth says softly, waits until Dean looks up and meets his eyes, "you know you're the only one I want, right? Like, no one else even registers for me. I just—" Seth licks his lips, heart racing "—I'm kind of stupidly in love with you at this point, so, y'know."

It's hard to maintain eye contact with Dean, but Seth does, only just, roar of his blood pumping echoing in his ears.

Dean says nothing for a minute, two, even after the waiter has come and gone, their orders placed, and Seth feels something sick and twisted take root in his stomach. Maybe Dean didn't mean it when he said it, didn't mean any of the stuff he's sleepily admitted to, that that's all they were: sleepy, nonsensical rumblings Seth was never supposed to hear.

There's the embarrassing sting of tears pricking at Seth's eyes, and he wants to leave, wants to go home, feels like an idiot for laying himself bare.

"Seth, look at me," Dean says, urges, and Seth can't, shaking his head, eyes down on the table. "Babe, c'mon, look at me."

Seth blinks rapidly to rid the tears from his eyes, holding his breath as he brings his gaze back up to Dean's, and Dean is smiling at him, the tiniest of smiles, corners of his lips lifted, eyes bright and dancing.

"What you said earlier to Roman," Dean says, speaking softly, "about not bein' good enough for me? That's bull, Seth. You're too good for me, but I'm fuckin' selfish and I ain't letting you go, you get me?"

Seth nods.

"And I know you weren't sleeping last week," Dean points out, grinning. "Or the other night, for that matter."

Seth feels his face heat up.

"Yeah," Dean says, chuckling. "We've shared a bed enough times that I know what you're like when you're actually asleep."

Seth licks his lips, asks, "So, why not say something some other time? Like, when I'm not fake sleeping, or when you're not come dumb and exhausted?"

Dean shrugs, takes a drink of his water. "Didn't wanna scare you off or say somethin' you weren't ready for yet."

"You wouldn't have," Seth says vehemently, shaking his head. Even if he wasn't as in love with Dean as he is right now, Dean admitting that he was wouldn't have made Seth go anywhere. He's known from the start that he was going to fall head over ass in love with Dean; it was inevitable, as certain as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west.

The conversation pauses as the waiter appears, placing their plates in front of them, excusing himself with a quiet _enjoy_.

The food smells even better in front of him, a bowl of chicken gnocchi soup and a side salad, Dean's plate piled with penne in a vodka cream sauce.

Dean shovels a forkful of food into his mouth, moaning as his lips close around the fork. Seth shifts in his seat, feeling a little hot and bothered. Dean moaning like the food in his mouth is equivalent to having his dick sucked is more arousing than it has any right being.

"Well, I mean, I know that now," Dean says, swallowing the food in his mouth. "But c'mon. I'm on the road more than 75% of the year, I beat people up for a living, and I'm a public figure. That's not exactly ideal relationship material, y'know?"

"But what can I even offer you?" Seth asks, setting down the spoon he just picked up. "I mean, like you said, you're a public figure, in the closet. And it's not that I don't understand that, because I do. I was told before I screwed up my knee that if I ever wanted to make it anywhere, my sexuality had to be hidden, kept quiet, and I'm sure you were told something similar.

"Does it bother me sometimes that I can't really shout it from the rooftops that I'm ridiculously in love with you, and that you make me happier than anything ever has before? Yeah, of course it does, but I understand, Dean. I understand that there are certain things that have to be done to keep your career safe. I would never do anything to jeopardize that. I lost my shot at living out my dream, and I'd rather bite my own arm off than do that to you."

"That," Dean says, "is what you offer me. Your understanding, your compassion, the fact that like, you're as understanding as you are. Most people would've said screw it and moved on, y'know? Why stick around for someone they ain't able to show off and shit."

Seth takes a few bites of his salad, mostly to give himself time to process the tone of Dean's voice. It's—there's a lot of hurt there, a lot of bitterness, and it makes Seth angry, angry that someone could just leave Dean, that someone could say fuck it because they couldn't deal with Dean's lifestyle and all its demands and everything it entails, but part of Seth is glad, too, glad that the people before him walked away because if they hadn't, Seth wouldn't be here now, wouldn't be sitting across from Dean, in love with Dean, wouldn't have Dean loving him back.

"I'm not going anywhere," Seth says, lightly kicking Dean's foot beneath the table. "Your ass is stuck with me."

"I think I'll live," Dean replies, grinning. "And, hey, just so you know, I'm pretty stupidly in love with you, too."

Seth grins, smile so wide it's squishing up his cheeks so that he can't see, and he doesn't even care if he looks like an idiot right now because he's never felt happier, never felt so fucking weightless and free.

The conversation switches to lighter topics after that, things like Dean needing to go grocery shopping, their laundry needing to be washed, Seth needing to call his mom and let her know that he's going to be gone a week longer, and if she could pleaseplease _please_ keep Kevin again.

It's easily one of the best nights of Seth's life, and it gets better when they get back to Dean's house, his head pillowed on Dean's chest while they relax on the sofa, a movie playing in the background while Seth focuses on the steady thrum of Dean's heart beneath his ear, the feel of Dean's fingers lightly moving up and down his back.

He falls asleep like that, Dean's quiet laugh the most soothing of sounds, and when he wakes up in the morning, he's on a bed, tucked under a blanket, stripped down to his boxers.

Dean's already awake beside him, sitting up against the headboard as the television drones on at a low volume, Seth's eyes too blurred with sleep to make out what's on the screen.

"Did you carry me to bed?" Seth asks, throwing an arm over Dean's waist.

"Mhmm," Dean says, fingers carding through Seth's hair. "Didn't wanna wake you. Looked too cute sleeping."

Seth groans, burying his face into his pillow.

"C'mon, sleepyhead, time to get up. We've got a workout to do."

Seth groans again, tries to pull the blanket up over his head. He's gotten a little lazy during the last week. He hasn't been working out as much as he does back home, barely managing to get in a few miles of running, and the thought of dragging himself out of Dean's comfortable bed to workout makes him want to cry a little bit.

Dean slips out from beneath his arm, and Seth notices then that Dean's wearing nothing, every inch of his glorious body on display.

That's just not fair.

"We could get some perfectly good exercise in bed," Seth tries, propping his head up on his hand.

"Tempting," Dean says, but he's pulling on a pair of boxer briefs, shorts, and Seth knows it's not going to happen. "I haven't been home in a while, though, and nothing beats working out in the desert."

Seth frowns. He rolls over onto his back, throwing the blanket off, sliding his hands down his chest, his stomach, brushing over the soft swell of his dick. "Nothing? You sure about that?"

"No, Seth, c'mon," Dean says, pleads, throwing his shirt at Seth.

Seth grins, laughs, tosses Dean's shirt back at him. He gets out of bed, stretching, groaning as his joints pop and crack, digging through the bag Dean must have brought in while he was asleep, pulling out a fresh change of clothes and his knee brace.

"Gonna pee and change," he tells Dean, clothing bundled in his arms.

"There's a new toothbrush in one of the drawers. Toothpaste is on the countertop."

Seth's jaw nearly hits the floor when he steps foot into Dean's bathroom. It's fucking huge, marble floor and sparkling white surfaces, bathtub big enough to fit three of him easily, and a stand-up shower with a frosted glass door and the biggest showerhead Seth's ever seen outside of a store.

He almost doesn't want to touch anything.

He strips off his boxers and empties his bladder, washing his hands before he brushes his teeth and puts on his workout clothes, tying his hair up into a bun that'll probably come loose well before their workout is done.

Dean's got his shoes and socks on by the time Seth emerges, and Seth quickly digs through his bag for a pair of socks and his running shoes, lacing them up and tying them tightly.

"Alright," Seth says, claps his hands. "Let's see what's so great about this workout."

Dean grins, and Seth has a feeling he's going to regret agreeing to this.

* * *

Seth regrets everything. His lungs burn, his side has a stitch in it, his calves are on fire, his shirt is soaked with sweat, and his knee has started throbbing.

Dean works out like a fucking machine here in the desert where he's very clearly in his element, scaling cliff sides and running over the rocky, uneven terrain, push ups and sit ups and shadowboxing, and it's so much, the sun high and bright, beating down on his face, and he doesn't understand how Dean's shirtless, skin rapidly pinking beneath the flush of exertion.

Seth picks up speed, pushes himself to finish the last of the run, feeling all sorts of out of shape compared to Dean. "Christ, I can't—" he breaks off to suck in a lungful of air, hand on his side as he stands in front of Dean.

"You okay?" Dean asks, rubbing his shirt over his face. His breathing is barely accelerated, and if it wasn't for the sweat dripping off his body, it'd be hard to tell he's just finished working out.

Seth grimaces, nods, takes the bottle of water Dean hands him and sips at it. "Yeah, fine," he says, lies, because every part of his body is screaming at him, begging for him to just stop moving for a minute.

"You're not," Dean says, taking a step closer. Seth tries to meet him, tries to take a step closer, but his knee buckles, almost sends him sprawling on the ground, but Dean's there, arms wrapped tight around him, hauling him back upright. "We gotta get you home, c'mon, put your arm around me."

Seth frowns, hates feeling so goddamn weak and limited, but he slings an arm around Dean's neck, keeping as much weight off his bad leg as he can.

He's grateful Dean drove to the middle of nowhere instead of jogging there as a warm up the way he said he usually does, and it's such a huge relief to be seated in the front seat of Dean's truck, cold air blasting from the vents drying the sweat on his skin.

"I didn't mean to push you so hard," Dean says apologetically, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting on Seth's thigh.

"No, it's my fault," Seth says, shaking his head. "I should've said something. I know what my limits are, and I knew that was too much. It's my own fault for, I dunno, trying to impress you or something."

"I've seen you in the middle of the night with your hair lookin' like a damn bird's nest, drooling all over yourself," Dean says, playful and teasing. "Far from impressive, babe."

"Like you're a work of art when you're asleep," Seth shoots back, grinning, because Dean kind of is unfairly gorgeous when he's asleep.

Dean pokes his thigh. "You know I'm fuckin' beautiful all the time, quit lyin'."

Seth laughs. Dean is such a fucking dork sometimes.

Dean helps him inside when they get back to his house, throwing him over his shoulder when they get to the stairs.

"Oh, my god, you barbarian, put me down," Seth says with a laugh, hits his fists against Dean's ass.

"Imma drop you if you keep that up, Seth," Dean says, slap of his palm on Seth's ass making him shout and twitch.

Dean carries him into the bedroom, through to the bathroom, setting him down on the ledge of the bathtub. "Strip," he says, already toeing out of his own shoes and removing his socks.

Seth grumbles half-heartedly, peeling off his sweat soaked shirt before he kicks off his shoes, Dean reaching over to remove his socks. His knee throbs when he stands to remove the rest of his clothes and the brace, and he knows it's going to be a long, painful day.

Dean turns the water on, testing it a few times before he asks Seth if the temperature is okay, and when Seth nods his head, Dean lets it fill, shutting off the water when it's three-quarters full.

Seth watches with hungry eyes as Dean climbs in, admiring the flex of muscles in his legs, his thighs, his ass, feeling a low simmer of arousal the way he always does when he's confronted with a naked Dean.

"C'mon," Dean says, motioning him in, and Seth swings his legs around so they're inside the tub, sinking into the hot water and groaning as his muscles immediately start relaxing. "No, c'mere." Dean grabs his hand when Seth tries to settle at the opposite end, pulling him over until his back is settled against Dean's chest, his body fit between Dean's legs.

"This is nice," Seth says softly, relaxing back against Dean, pulling Dean's hands so his arms are wrapped around Seth's waist.

"It is," Dean agrees, places a soft kiss to Seth's neck.

It's comfortable here, the warmth of the water and the heat of Dean's body surrounding him, and he never wants to move, doesn't want to leave this place.

The thought of losing all this when he has to go back home, back to work, is upsetting, frustrating, and he quickly shoves it to the back of his mind, doesn't want those thoughts ruining the here and now, spoiling the time he's with Dean.

"Could fall asleep here," Seth says, shifting slightly so he can rest his head back on Dean's shoulder. Dean's hands start moving up and down Seth's stomach, touch so light it tickles, and Seth can't help but laugh softly at the sensation. "No, stop that," he says, grips Dean's hands tightly in his own and pulls them away from his body.

"Party pooper," says Dean, warmth of his breath washing over the shell of Seth's ear before his teeth close around it, tugging gently.

Seth shivers, curses under his breath. Fucking Dean, he knows how sensitive Seth's ears are. "Shit, Dean," he rasps out, tightens his grip on Dean's hands.

Dean's teeth slowly make their way down the line of his neck, sinking into the meat of his shoulder, enough pressure that Seth feels it down to his dick. "So easy for me, aren't you, babe?" The words are said against his skin, almost so muffled Seth can barely make them out.

"No, fuck off," Seth says without heat, but it's a goddamn lie and they both know it, Seth's dick rapidly starting to fill and harden.

"I'd rather fuck you," Dean says, low and deep, gravel rough into Seth's ear.

Seth wants to get clean first, wants to scrub the grime of sweat and dirt from his hair, his skin, but Dean's making it so fucking hard to resist, lips, teeth, tongue working over Seth's neck and shoulder, reducing him down to nothing but soft sighs and moans.

Looks like they're going to be getting a whole lot dirtier before they get clean.

* * *

Later, after an orgasm that leaves Seth boneless and spent, he's back down in the living room, leg propped up on a pillow, a bag of ice on top of it. Dean's in the laundry room, finally emptying their bags to wash their clothes, and Seth feels a little bad that Dean's doing it all on his own, but Dean was adamant that Seth plant his ass on the sofa and ice his knee, that he could take care of it, and Seth could do nothing but comply.

He's secretly glad for it, too, because he loathes doing laundry.

When Dean comes back into the living room, his phone is pressed to his ear, and he looks far from happy.

Seth raises an eyebrow, but Dean shakes his head, pacing back and forth while his expression darkens further. "I don't care, Roman," he says, and Seth understands now, sliding down on the sofa, playing with the hem of the shirt Dean borrowed him. He hates that he's the reason Dean and Roman are arguing. "No, that gives you no right to treat Seth the way you have been. He's done nothing to you, and whatever you think about my apparent inability to make smart decisions, that doesn't mean you get to treat him like shit."

Seth watches as Dean rubs a hand over his face, presses his fingers against his eyelids, wishing he could do something, anything, but sit here and wait for Dean to get off the phone.

"He's a good guy, Roman, and it fuckin' sucks that you don't trust my judgment." Dean resumes his pacing, but he draws nearer to the sofa, close enough that Seth can reach out and grab his hand, giving it a brief squeeze before he legs it go. "No, you idiot, I'm not choosin' him over you, I'm not choosin' anything. I'm tellin' you to pull your goddamn head outta your ass and fuckin' trust me."

Dean's on the phone for a few minutes longer, and he hangs up with a sigh after telling Roman that they're getting their own rental for the week, that he'll see him when he sees him.

"Hate arguin' with him," Dean says, collapsing down onto the sofa next to Seth.

"I'm sorry," Seth says, doesn't know what else to say.

Dean shakes his head, says, "Don't be. It's not your fault. Roman's just, he's too overprotective sometimes, y'know? Acts like he's like, a million years older than me or somethin' when we're barely like, seven months apart."

"It's good that you have someone looking out for you, though," Seth points out, even if he wishes Roman would go about it in a different way.

"I guess," Dean says, shrugging his shoulders.

"Come here," says Seth, pulls Dean closer to him, running his fingers through the messy curls of Dean's hair. "M'sorry about all of this, that you're stuck in the middle."

"Don't be." Dean turns, dislodging Seth's fingers, but he cups Seth's face between his hands, drawing their lips together, soft, chaste kisses that warm Seth to his core. "Roman's just gonna have to learn to deal. You ain't goin' anywhere."

* * *

Their 4th of July is spent in Canada, and though Seth is used to celebrating with fireworks and barbecues, watching Dean wrestle is even better.

It's another loss for Dean, though, and Seth hates seeing the defeated slump of Dean's shoulders when the winner is announced and it's not his name being called. It fucking sucks.

Seth's back in Dean's locker room, waiting for Dean to make his way back, shoving Dean's clothes into his duffelbag. Somehow, all of Dean's clothes seems to end up on the floor, regardless of their cleanliness, and it's an annoying, if endearing, trait of his.

Seth's just finished zipping the bag shut when the door creaks open, and he's expecting it to be Dean, so when he looks up and sees Roman standing there, his heart starts hammering in his chest. "Dean's still not back yet," he says, hating the nervous quake of his voice.

"I know," Roman says, and he steps inside, closing the door softly behind him.

"Oh." Seth doesn't know what else to say, doesn't know what Roman's doing here, because as far as he knows, Dean hasn't talked to him since a couple of days ago when Dean told him to get his head out of his ass.

"Look, man," Roman says, a deep, rich rumble that's a little more than unsettling, "I just wanted to apologize."

That's—that's definitely not what Seth was expecting to hear.

"I've been bein' an ass," Roman continues, looking surprisingly contrite. "But you gotta know it's nothin' against you."

"Could've fooled me," Seth mutters, playing with the handle of Dean's bag to give himself something to do, doesn't think he'd be able to have this conversation if he was actually looking directly at Roman. Dude is imposing as fuck.

"Yeah, I know," Roman says, laughing dryly. "It's just—I love Dean, right, he's my brother, my family, but he doesn't always make the wisest decisions, y'know?"

"But they're his decisions to make," Seth retorts, arms folded over his chest as he finally brings himself to look over at Roman, steeling his resolve. This is Dean's locker room, which makes it Seth's, too, and he's not going to let Roman intimidate him in his own space.

"I know they are." Roman sighs, running a hand through his hair. "Listen. For all that Dean likes to act like this asshole who doesn't let anyone in, who likes to act like he's made of stone or whatever, he tends to think with his heart. He don't think things through, man, and it's gotten him into some trouble before. I know Dean can make his own decisions, but what kind of friend, what kind of _brother_ would I be if I just sat back and didn't try to make sure he wasn't gettin' himself into more trouble?"

"I can appreciate that," Seth says, because he understands, he does. It's not hard to see that Roman's intentions were good, he just went about it in a completely screwed up way. "But you still treated me like shit, dude. Didn't even try to get to know me. You, what, thought I was just another mistake Dean was making? That, what, I'm only in it for the money or whatever fame he has? Man, you couldn't be more wrong." Seth pauses to take a breath, to wet his dry lips and throat. "I have my own job, my own house, my own money, and I don't want or need any of the fame that Dean has. And I don't know if he ever told you, but being a wrestler was my dream, alright? I'd rather die than out him and ruin everything he's worked so hard for. I love him, and his happiness is my happiness, you get me?"

Roman looks taken aback, but he recovers quickly, his gaze dropping to the floor. "Dean doesn't talk about you," he says, shaking his head. "Told him I didn't wanna hear any of it."

Seth scoffs. Big fuckin' surprise. "Yeah, well, that's on you, man. You fucked up."

"I need a long fuckin' shower, a big ass burger, and an orgasm, stat." Dean comes barreling through the door, voice echoing in the silence of the room, and his demand for an orgasm has Seth's cheeks heating up. Dean really needs to learn how to use his inside voice when he's asking for things like that.

"Really, Dean?" Seth asks, cocking an eyebrow in Dean's direction.

Dean ignores him, though, asks, "What's going on?" his eyes narrowed, voice pitched low and protective.

"Just talking to Roman," Seth replies, leaning in for a kiss when Dean walks over to him. He wrinkles his nose when he pulls away. "You're right, you do need a long shower. You stink."

"Ass," Dean says. He settles his hands on Seth's hips, his chin on Seth's shoulder, turning his attention to Roman, who's standing there looking a little uncomfortable and a lot out of place. "Whatcha doing here, Rome?"

"Just came to apologize to Seth," Roman says, "and I've done that, so Imma go."

Seth frees himself from the embrace Dean has him in, taking the few steps to Roman and holding his hand out. "Try not bein' so much of an ass, dude. You're not actually a bad guy."

Roman's grip is firm, strong, but he smiles, a half little thing, says, "Yeah, I'll work on that," and then he's gone, a quick wave in Dean's direction before the door is closing behind him.

"You are really lucky to have him," Seth tells Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. He's a little jealous, envious of the fact that he has no one in his life like Roman, but he's so fucking glad Dean does, that there's someone looking out for him.

Dean hums softly, presses a kiss to the top of Seth's head. "I wasn't kidding about the shower, the burger, and the orgasm. Get your butt movin', Seth. We've got a long ass flight."


	7. Chapter 7

Road trips, Kevin the dog, and ugly doubts rearing their head

* * *

"Are you positive you don't mind?" Seth asks, for what feels like the hundredth time.

"Ask me one more time, Seth," Dean says, shaking his head. There's no frustration there, though, only a playful smile, and Seth sighs, his shoulders dropping.

Kevin's been staying at his parents the last couple weeks, and he knows his mom doesn't mind, but it's his dog, his responsibility, and as good of a time as he's having with Dean, there's a nagging little voice in his head that tells him he's being incredibly neglectful of his dog.

They've spent the last few days at Seth's again, and it's easy as breathing to be with Dean. It still takes Seth by surprise sometimes how natural it feels having Dean around, like Dean was this huge missing piece in Seth's life that he didn't even realize wasn't there until suddenly it was, and everything became clearer, better.

Seth had picked Kevin up from his parents the morning after they'd gotten in, and Seth had gotten a little emotional over it. He hadn't spent more than a day away from Kevin since he'd gotten him, and Kevin's energetic, enthusiastic greeting had made a lump form in Seth's throat.

It was Dean who'd suggested bringing Kevin along, and even though he's the one who brought it up, it's Seth who'd kept asking if he was sure, which he's well aware probably annoyed Dean more than he let on.

It's just - after the last few weeks, he knows how hard and strenuous it is to constantly be on the road, to move from city to city to hotel to hotel, and having a dog along would only make it that much harder. Dean, though, has been vehement in his insistence that Seth bring Kevin along, and he'd even gone out to buy Kevin some things that'll make traveling easier for him.

"Do we have everything?" Dean asks, and Seth runs over the list in his head, ticking off each item as his eyes search it out from where it's stored in the back of the rental. They'd tossed around the idea of flying to the next city and taking a rental from there, but Seth didn't want to hold Dean up with the process of bringing his dog on the flight. Sure, it means it's a long ass drive for them to make, but Dean doesn't seem to mind, looks downright giddy, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he holds Kevin against his chest.

"Yeah," Seth says, shouldering the bag with Kevin's treats and toys, closing the hatch of the SUV.

"Good." Dean tosses him the keys, which Seth narrowly misses. "You can drive the first leg. Me and the little guy wanna hang."

Seth would actually rather drive, if they're going to have Kevin in the car with them. Dean's driving isn't the greatest, and he still kind of scares the shit out of Seth. He has no patience for traffic, and he has the worst case of road rage Seth's ever witnessed up close. Yeah, it's comical at times, the way Dean will go off on the car in front of him, behind him, beside him, the ridiculous nonsensical shit that'll come from Dean's mouth, but it makes him nervous and anxious at the same time, and he'd rather not have Kevin pick up on that anxiety. They don't need to pay for detailing because Kevin accidentally peed on the seat.

The drive is long, longer than Seth realized it would be, but the stops for fuel, food, and bathroom breaks help break up the lengthy drive. It also helps to get out and stretch his legs, feeling a slight ache beginning to set in with being in the same position for so long.

"You okay?" Dean asks, and Seth frowns, realizing he hasn't been doing as good a job of hiding his discomfort as he thought.

"Yeah," says Seth, holding back a grimace as he stretches his leg out, massaging the tips of his fingers against the sides of his knee.

Dean comes over with Kevin's leash wrapped around his fist, Kevin trotting along happily beside him. "You're not," he says, free hand gentle on the small of Seth's back. "I'll drive the last few hours. Stretch out in the backseat with Kev."

"No, Dean, I'm fine," Seth insists, shaking his head. All he needs is a couple of aspirin, or a Tylenol, and he'll be good to go.

"You've driven almost the whole trip," Dean points out. "Just relax in the backseat for now and when we get to the hotel, you can soak in the tub or I'll give you a massage or somethin'."

Well, when Dean puts it that way.

Seth ends up dozing off to the soft sound of Dean humming along to the radio, Kevin curled up in the front seat, and he comes to with Dean in his face, a hand on his arm, shaking him awake. "C'mon, we're here."

Seth groans and yawns. Dean already has all their bags loaded onto a cart, and Seth takes Kevin from the front seat, attaching the leash to his harness. He tries not to limp as he follows Dean into the hotel, but his knee is stiff, aching, and he's in desperate need of that massage and bath Dean mentioned earlier.

The receptionist that checks them in fawns over Seth's dog, and Seth can't help but grin, shaking his head at the way Kevin eats up the attention. "Little attention whore," Seth says, ignoring Dean's muttered "just like his daddy".

"You gonna take him out now?" Dean asks, handing Seth a key to the room.

"Yeah," Seth says, pocketing the key. "We'll meet you up there?"

Dean nods, and Seth has to resist the urge to lean in and kiss him. It's become a common thing for him to do every time he leaves somewhere, and being unable to do it in public makes him frown.

It takes him a little longer than he'd like for Kevin to do his business, busy sniffing everything he comes across, and by the time he makes it up to the room, Dean already has their bags situated, Kevin's bed settled in a corner, his food and water dishes not far from it.

"You're the best," Seth says, collapsing back onto the bed with a groan. He holds out his hand for Dean to join him, and Dean does, chuckling softly.

"You gonna shower, or you just gonna lay here all night?"

"Think you mentioned somethin' about a massage," Seth reminds him, cracking an eye open to look at Dean, a small smile playing on his lips.

"Mmm, I did," Dean says. His hand settles on Seth's stomach, and Seth sucks in a breath, shivers, Dean's fingers slowly pushing up his t-shirt, skin on skin making goosebumps break out across Seth's flesh. "C'mon, up, get your clothes off."

Seth sits up, pulling his shirt over his head, and he lets it fall to the side of the bed before he arches his back, lifting his hips while he unbuttons his jeans, eyes locked on Dean's as he licks his lips, pulls the zipper down tantalizingly slow, shimmying a little as he pushes them down his hips, his boxer briefs going along with them.

Dean takes over then, pulling Seth's shoes and socks off before his hands circle Seth's ankles, thumbs brushing against the knob of bone there, and the touch makes Seth groan, his mouth going dry, dick starting to fatten up.

"Down, boy," Dean says with a grin, hooks his fingers under the waistband of Seth's pants to pull them the rest of the way off.

"Now you," Seth says. He shifts up on the bed, settling his head back against the pillows, and he folds his hands together over his stomach, watching as Dean steps out of his boots, his socks, shedding his shirt and pants, leaving him in a pair of blue boxer briefs. "Those, too."

Dean makes a show of it, thumb hooked under the waistband on one side, inching it down his hip before he does the same to the other side, smooth skin and half chub slowly coming into view. "Don't know why I gotta be naked if you're the one gettin' the massage," he says, but he's grinning, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth.

Seth shrugs. "I just like you being naked." Because he does. If he had it his way, Dean would be naked all the time. There will never be a day where he won't want to see all that smooth skin, the muscles bunching and flexing beneath it.

Dean takes their clothes and moves them to a chair, coming back to the bed with a bottle of lube in one hand, lotion in the other.

"Lotion," Seth says, "not lube." The lube dries tacky, and it's not a feeling he wants on his skin all night.

Dean tosses the lube to the side, spreading Seth's legs open a little wider so he can sit between them, and Seth sucks in a breath when the cold lotion hits his skin. "Sorry, sorry," Dean says quickly. He spreads the lotion around Seth's knee, down his calf, and it's still cold, colder than Seth likes, but Dean's hands are quickly warming it, and he relaxes slightly as Dean starts kneading his calf muscle, thumbs over his shin, moving down to his ankle before going back up, hesitant as Dean reaches his knee.

Seth holds his breath, fighting back a grimace as Dean's fingers start moving again, little points of pressure all along his knee, and it hurts, it does, but Dean's being as gentle as he can be while still working out the soreness, and Seth lets him manipulate his entire leg however he needs, bending and straightening it while his thumbs rub circles to soothe the ache.

"How's that?" Dean asks, his voice hushed, fingers slipping up Seth's inner thigh.

Seth spreads his legs wider still, looking down at Dean through hooded eyes. "S'good," he slurs out, breath coming faster, and he bites his bottom lip as Dean drops down onto his stomach, mouth hot and wet along the inside of his thigh, up to the crease of it. "Dean," he says, a breathy exhale, fingers tangling in the messy curls of Dean's hair, and he grips a little tighter when Dean's lips ghost over the sensitive skin of his balls.

"I got you," Dean says, mouth moving along the inside of Seth's opposite thigh, and Seth breathes out shakily, carding his fingers through Dean's hair, pushing it back and away from his face, hooded blue eyes looking up at him.

A hiccuped moan and Dean has Seth's dick in his mouth, tongue curling around the head before he takes him deeper, deeper, Seth's eyes rolling to the back of his head as he feels the tight clench of Dean's throat closing around him, and it's, fuck, it's so good, has his toes curling, hips rocking up into Dean's mouth, and Dean's humming, taking it all, lips spit slick as he works up and down Seth's dick, little vibrations going straight to Seth's balls, pulling them up tight.

"Don't come," Dean says, voice deep and rough when he pulls off, and Seth wants to cry, feels his orgasm right there, on the brink of exploding out of his skin, but Dean's kissing up his stomach, his chest, tongue trailing hot and wet along his collarbone, his neck, teeth grazing the line of his jaw until their mouths, their hips, are pressed together, Dean's dick rocking right alongside Seth's, lips and tongue and teeth pulling all the oxygen from Seth's lungs.

Seth hooks his leg around Dean's hip, his hands on Dean's back, rocking up as Dean grinds down, and he can hardly focus on kissing Dean back, his awareness pinpointed to the way Dean's dick is wet against his, the feel of their cockheads rubbing together, and he rips his mouth from Dean's, panting and moaning as he shoots off between them, pulses of come splattering their bellies that rock Seth's body, and he goes sensitive almost too fast, the sensation almost too much as Dean continues rocking against him, hips thrusting quick and erratic as his dick slides along the groove of Seth's hip, and he's burying his face into Seth's neck as he comes, teeth digging in a little as he groans and shakes through it.

Seth keeps his hands moving up and down Dean's back, feeling the way Dean's ribs contract and expand as his breathing slows down, and they're sweaty, dirty, but Seth doesn't want to move, doesn't want to be anywhere but where he is now, covered by Dean's body, feeling the warmth of Dean's breath washing over the sensitive skin of his neck.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Dean says, the words panted out into Seth's neck, before he's pushing himself up onto his knees between Seth's legs, his hands smoothing down the length of Seth's thighs.

Seth smiles warmly up at Dean, shaking his head. "Nah, I'm not," he says, laughing softly. He's not even being self-deprecating; he knows he's far from perfect, has an infinite list of flaws and imperfections.

"You are to me," Dean says, eyes soft and warm. "You feelin' okay to shower?"

"Yeah," says Seth, nodding. The massage Dean gave him - coupled with the orgasm - has left him pain-free, feeling almost boneless, beyond relaxed.

It's still relatively early by the time they emerge from the shower, but Seth is tired from driving halfway across the country, and Dean doesn't look like he's faring much better. "I'm gonna take Kev out again," he says, pulling one of Dean's shirts over his head.

"I can do it," Dean offers, but Seth shakes his head, tells him he'll be right back, and by the time he slips back into the room, removes Kevin's leash and harness, Dean's asleep, sprawled out across the bed on his stomach, arm flung out over the empty side.

"Move over, you bed hog," Seth says, pushing at Dean's arm. Dean grumbles, but he rolls onto his side, leaving enough space for Seth to climb in, and he's immediately pulled in against Dean's front, his back flush to Dean's chest, Dean's arm secure around his waist.

"Love you," Dean whispers, the words ruffling the hairs at the nape of Seth's neck.

Seth hums, laces his fingers with Dean's, their legs tangling together. "Love you, Dean."

* * *

Seth is really regretting bringing Kevin along. It's not that he's a nuisance, or that he's causing problems, no, it's that they're stuck driving between cities, and Seth's really not happy about it. The drive from Davenport to Pittsburgh was well over 14 hours, and they'd had to leave at the ass crack of dawn to make it to the hotel at a decent hour with all the stops they'd had to make, and now, the drive to the next city is another 12 hours, longer with the stops, and Seth doesn't want Dean driving, not when he just finished wrestling, when he's sweaty and tired and frustrated with his loss, and Seth's not looking forward to being stuck in the cramped driver's seat all night, either, having to guzzle down coffee after coffee to stay awake to ensure they get to the next city on time.

Their bags are all in the back of the SUV, and Seth's waiting impatiently in the locker room for Dean to finish showering so they can be on the road. He's already taken Kevin out to do his business, and he's sitting at Seth's feet now, the picture of perfect calm.

Dean comes into the room with a towel slung around his neck, his duffel bag dangling loosely from his hand.

"You almost ready to go?" Seth asks sharply. He doesn't even know why he's feeling so irritated, the drive notwithstanding. Everything is just grating on his nerves right now, and he's pissed and frustrated about it.

"What's wrong with you?" Dean asks, replacing the towel with a shirt that would normally have Seth's mouth watering. It's doing nothing for him, though, this time.

"Nothing," Seth says, shaking his head. "Just wanna get going."

"No, somethin's wrong," Dean says, stepping closer. He puts his hands on Seth's shoulders, and Seth shrugs them off before he even realizes he's doing it, blowing out a frustrated breath. "Seth?"

Seth shakes his head again, refusing to meet Dean's eyes, but Dean takes matters into his own hands, squatting down between Seth's legs, his hands on Seth's thighs.

"C'mon, babe, talk to me." His voice is soft, delicate, and his eyes are searching, like they're silently begging for Seth to tell him what's wrong so he can fix it, whatever it is, but Seth doesn't know, can't tell him because he doesn't fucking know, and the breath he blows out sounds frustrated. "Okay. If you're not gonna talk to me, maybe goin' home is what you should do."

Seth bites his bottom lip, feels a lump forming in his throat. "No," he rasps out, hands clasping onto Dean's. He ignores the way Kevin's pawing at his leg, no doubt trying to offer him some kind of comfort. "I don't - I'm just, god, I don't want to go home."

"Okay." Dean nods, thumbs brushing soothingly across Seth's knuckles. "Can you tell me what's goin' on with you?"

Seth shrugs. "I dunno. Just - I'm tired, and I'm hungry, and I didn't realize bringing Kevin was going to make it that much harder, but I didn't want to leave him at home anymore, and you said I should bring him along, and it's such a long drive, and you need to sleep, I don't want you driving when you need to sleep for your match tomorrow, and being stuck in the same position for hours on end makes my knee fucking kill, and I just—"

"Seth, breathe," Dean says, cutting him off, and Seth's grateful, probably would've started hyperventilating had Dean not stopped his sudden tirade, but now he feels stupid, like a goddamn baby, whining over every little thing when he's really got nothing to even be upset about. "You don't have to drive the whole time. Pretty sure Roman's still here, and he's been ridin' with Jimmy and Naomi. Y'all can take turns. He owes us, anyway, for being such a shit before."

Seth hasn't really talked to or seen Roman since their confrontation, and he's not sure if Roman will even want to be around him, let alone chauffeur them to the next city. He probably already had plans to fly out in a few hours like very other sensible person on the roster, and he doesn't want Roman to be pissed at him that he's going to be stuck in a cramped car instead.

"Imma go see if I can find him, okay?" Dean drops a kiss to the top of his head before he takes off, jogging out the door.

"I'm bein' a big baby, huh?" Seth asks Kevin, pulling him up and into his lap, and Kevin attacks his fingers immediately, tiny teeth grazing the skin. "Watch it, dude."

Even the prospect of having Roman to share driving duties with doesn't really make Seth feel any better. He'll still be stuck in a cramped space for more hours than he'd like, on top of all the hours he spent the day before, and the massage Dean so diligently gave him has already started to wear out. He knows it's because he's not working out as much as he was before at home, and not stretching and keeping mobility in his knee is making it act up in the worst ways, but Seth needs a gym, a treadmill, a weight set, and Dean prefers to use what nature has to give him instead.

"Guess we gotta do what we gotta do, huh, Kev?" Next week he might just say screw it and go through the hassle of flying with Kevin, if only to avoid the long, ridiculous hours crammed into a car. A few hours he can handle, sure, but more than half a day? God, he's over it already.

"Whatever, man, I'll fuckin' pay the cost of your ticket, jesus, quit your whinin' already." Dean comes back into the room, grinning at Seth, Roman following behind him.

"I ain't whinin', fuck off," Roman says, stopping just inside the doorway. He's got his suitcases with him, and he looks like he's not entirely sure if he's welcome.

Kevin bounds out of Seth's lap, racing across the room and throwing himself at Roman's legs, jumping and yapping until Roman bends down to pick him up. "Who's this little guy?" he asks, and Seth can't help but laugh, big Roman Reigns felled by a damn Yorkie.

"Name's Kevin," Dean says, shaking his head at Seth. "Seth's yappy little dog."

"Yeah, he's just like you that way, huh?" Seth asks, smirking.

"You think you're real cute, don't you?"

Seth raises an eyebrow. "I know I am."

"I ain't tryna break up this little party y'all are havin', but we should probably get goin'," Roman says, pulling Seth's attention away from Dean.

Seth takes Kevin when Roman hands him over, attaching his leash, and he leads them out of the arena to the rental, popping the trunk to maneuver some of their bags around to fit Roman's stuff in. "Thanks for this," he tells Roman, when Roman approaches to toss his things inside.

"I owe you," Roman says with a shrug. "And Dean probably would've pissed in my shampoo if I said no."

"You deserved that, asshole," Dean shouts from where he's making himself comfortable in the front seat.

Seth's face scrunches up in disgust. "Dean, seriously?"

"He speared me, Seth. He deserved it," Dean explains, deadpan.

Roman heaves out a sigh. "It was an accident!"

"Still shouldn't have done it," Dean says petulantly.

"You sure you wanna spend your life with that?" Roman asks in a whisper, his eyebrow raised.

Seth laughs. "Couldn't even dream of it being anybody else."

* * *

Seth understands that Roman's pissed as hell about all the shit Bray's been pulling during his matches, but, fuck, does that really mean he should interfere in Dean's match, attacking Bray before it can even begin?

"Hey, that means I've got all the energy in the world for you tonight, baby," Dean points out when Seth brings it up, filthy grin spread across his face.

"Roman riding with Jimmy and Naomi tonight?" Seth asks.

Dean's eyebrows scrunch in confusion, and Seth will always find that fucking adorable. "Yeah, why?"

"And you're not needed anymore tonight?"

"Nope," Dean says, shaking his head.

"Good," Seth says, whistling for Kevin. "You've got all that energy. Sooner we get to the hotel in the next city, the better."

"I like the way you think, Rollins," Dean says, laughing and grinning.

* * *

Seth loves watching Dean wrestle. There's probably very little he loves more than that - his family and his dog not included - but watching Dean get fucking destroyed? His heart is in his throat, and he can't stop chewing on his thumbnail, foot bouncing up and down as he waits for Dean to return to the locker room, and when he does, he can barely breathe with the way Dean's holding himself: one hand gripping his head, the other wrapped around his ribs.

"Are you okay?" he asks, rushing to Dean's side.

"Just some bumps and bruises," Dean says. "All in a day's work."

"A lot of that shit looked nasty as fuck," Seth points out, helping Dean remove his shirt - not that Dean really needs the help, he just likes undressing him, is all.

"I've had worse," Dean says, a grin on his face, probably to show Seth that he is indeed fine.

"Then go shower," Seth says, wrinkling his nose. "You're really fuckin' rank, dude."

"Don't act like you don't like it," Dean teases, sticks his tongue out.

"I really, really don't," Seth denies, shivering in disgust. The smell of Dean's sweat after he's finished working out, he doesn't mind that so much, because Dean usually just smells like deodorant, like the body wash he uses, but after rolling around the ring for ten, fifteen minutes? It's - it's gross, and not something he wants to be stuck smelling for the next few hours, especially not in the confined space of their rental.

They still have to make the drive back to Iowa, but instead of making it in one straight shot, Dean had suggesting stopping for the night halfway through. Yeah, it'll cut into their time being home, but Seth would rather have that than have to spend another ten, twelve hours straight driving.

He's also decided to leave Kevin home with his parents again. As much as it sucks, and as much as he hates having to do that, it's the best solution for right now. He'll be home for good in a few weeks, anyhow, and he's hit with a bolt of sadness at the realization that he won't be spending every day with Dean.

He's gotten so used to Dean always being around over the last couple months, he's terrified of being home and Dean realizing that his life is so much easier without Seth around, that their constant close proximity was the reason Dean had thought he loved Seth when really, all Dean loved was having the company and a warm body to share his bed with.

"You okay?" Dean asks, jerking Seth out of his head. His hair is dripping down onto the towel around his neck, and there are still little rivulets of water sliding down his torso.

"Yeah," Seth says, shaking his head. "Just thinkin' about work shit."

Dean hums, scrubbing the towel through his hair. "You go back soon, right?"

"Toward the end of next month, yeah, but I gotta go back in a few weeks to start planning for the year," Seth explains, frowning.

"Guess we better make the best outta the time we have left then," Dean says, flashing a grin.

Seth hates how that sounds, how it sounds like their relationship has an expiration date, like Dean is just waiting for Seth to be back home, busy with teaching, before he breaks up with him, tells him it was just a fun summer fling, that Seth was just a stop to help pass the time, make his days and nights on the road less lonely.

"Guess so."

Seth snaps his fingers, beckoning Kevin over from where he was curled up in a ball on Dean's duffel bag, and he lifts him onto his lap, running his fingers through the silky softness of Kevin's coat while Dean packs his bag. There's a lump in his throat, his eyes prickle, but he hides it away, buries his face in Kevin's neck as he breathes, forces himself to calm down.

"Let's get out of here," Dean says, bag tossed over his shoulder.

Seth rises to his feet, keeps Kevin tucked against his chest, following Dean out to their rental.

* * *

They stop for the night halfway between Iowa and Alabama, a quaint little hotel off the highway, and the only bag they bother to bring into the room is Kevin's, filled with his dishes and food and bed, and Seth gets that all taken care of as soon as they're in their room for the night, Dean already sprawled across the bed.

He takes Kevin out once he's finished eating, and he loses track of time, walking up and down the hotel parking lot with Kevin's leash wrapped around his fist, trying to keep his breathing calm, his thoughts from straying and turning sour.

He knows he has no reason to think Dean would break up with him, that there hasn't been anything that even hints toward that happening, but he can't help that that's the direction his thoughts keep flying in. Things have been good, so fucking good, and Seth's just not used to that. Every time he has something he wants, something he's yearned for, something that seems to be too good to be true, it's ripped away from him, and Dean is all of that: something he wants, a relationship he's yearned for, and something that is way too good to be true for someone like him.

Kevin's done walking, it seems, sitting at Seth's feet where he's suddenly stopped, and Seth sighs, apologizing softly. "C'mon, little dude, time to go back."

Dean's sitting up in bed when Seth opens the door, and he unclips Kevin's leash before he shoos him to his bed, turning his attention to Dean, then. "Thought you were sleeping," he says softly, slipping out of his shoes before he sets the leash inside Kevin's bag.

"No," Dean says, shaking his head. "Can't sleep without you next to me."

Seth smiles softly at Dean, unbuttoning his jeans as he steps closer to the bed. "Sap," he says, playful and teasing.

Dean's arm is wrapped around Seth's waist and he's pulled back against Dean's chest before he knows it, Dean's mouth wet and warm against his neck. "You love it," he says, the words breathed out against his skin, and it makes Seth's toes curl, his breathing quicken.

He turns in Dean's hold so they're face to face, his fingers toying with the sleeve of Dean's t-shirt where it's stretched over his bicep. "I love you," he says softly, his eyes locked on Dean's. There's the lump in his throat again, threatening to steal his breath away, but if this is it, if these are the last few weeks he has with Dean, he's going to make the most of them, enjoy them as much as he can and try not to think about whatever's going to happen.

"Then why do you look so sad?" Dean asks, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin at the corner of one of Seth's eyes.

Seth shakes his head, forces a smile he knows Dean won't buy even for a second. "M'not." He closes his eyes when he feels the warmth of Dean's breath hitting his lips, and he swallows hard at the feel of Dean's lips against his own, a soft, gentle kiss, there and gone in an instant.

"C'mon," Dean says, Seth's eyes flickering open to find nothing but concern looking back at him, "talk to me."

Seth shrugs as best as he's able to, gaze slowly slipping down to Dean's lips, his chin, his cheek, so he won't have to meet Dean's eyes. "Guess I just don't wanna go back home," he confesses, only half the truth.

"You know nothin's gonna change when you're home, right?" Dean asks, cradling the side of Seth's face in the palm of his hand, thumb brushing back and forth over the swell of his cheekbone. They fit together like they were made for each other, like whatever higher being there is made them from the same cloth, the only two pieces of a puzzle. "Seth."

Seth shrugs again. He wants to believe, so badly, that nothing will change, but it's different, being home, away from Dean who's still on the road.

"C'mon," says Dean. "We made it work before, right? Nothin's gonna change."

"Yeah," Seth says softly. "I'm just bein' dumb, ignore me."

"No, c'mon, don't do that," Dean says, sounding a little frustrated. "Don't shut me out like that."

Seth maneuvers himself out of Dean's hold, sliding down to the edge of the bed. He can't - he can't have this conversation with Dean so close to him, with Dean's arms around him, because he doesn't want to make it seem like he's doubting Dean, that he's doubting what Dean feels for him, even if he is, even if it's only slightly, and he doesn't need Dean knowing, deciding to break up with him here and now because Seth is so goddamn insecure sometimes.

"You gonna talk to me?" Dean asks, and Seth hates how his voice sounds: flat, defeated.

"I don't know," Seth says quietly, shrugging. It seems to be all he can do right now. "Just kinda afraid, I guess, that this has been all some kind of dream or somethin', that it's all gonna go away when I have to go back to my life at home, that you're gonna be too busy and you're gonna forget about me." Seth feels like such an insecure dick right now, doubting everything, but fuck, he's only human, and things like this don't last, not for him.

"Seth, c'mon, you know that's not true," Dean says, wrapping his arms around Seth's waist from behind. His hold is tight, like if he keeps holding Seth the way he is, it'll chase all Seth's doubts and fears away, like he'll be able to keep them both here, away from the outside world, away from their separate lives and duties. "I love you, right, you know that, and I've told you, I wouldn't be riskin' everything if this was just a fling to me, if I didn't see some kind of real, permanent future with you. You gotta believe me, babe."

"I know," Seth says. He rests his hands on Dean's arms, pulls them tighter around his waist. "I don't know what my problem is today."

"I get it," Dean says softly. Seth falls back against him when Dean tugs, moving them so they're spooning on their sides again. "Feelin' kinda the same myself, y'know? Like, you could go back home, find someone else who isn't as much trouble to be with as I am, someone who you can be with all the time and don't gotta hide from everyone. Yeah, I know you love me, but sometimes love ain't everything."

Seth swallows roughly. There's never been a thought in his mind of finding someone else, of wanting to be with anyone else. Dean is it for him, he knows. He's never been more certain of anything in his life, and he doesn't care if it hasn't been that long. "It is for me," he says. "There's never gonna be anyone else for me. I don't care how hard this can be at times, or that I can't parade you around or whatever. I love you, and I will fight for you, always."

Seth finds himself facing Dean once again, his eyes the softest of blue. "Then believe that I'll do the same for you," Dean says, before he's cradling Seth's face again, pressing their lips together, soft, barely there kisses that only make Seth hungrier, make him ache and yearn for more. Dean doesn't let him, though, keeps it soft and sweet every time Seth tries to push for more, and it frustrates him, a little, because all he wants is for Dean to take him apart and put him back together.

"C'mon, more," Seth says, fits one hand to the spur of Dean's hip, grip tight enough to bruise.

Dean chuckles, soft puffs of breath hitting Seth's chin. "We got all night, cowboy, slow it down."

Seth groans in frustration, throws his head back against the pillows, but the sound gets choked off when Dean licks at his neck, purses his lips and blows, a raspberry that has Seth shrieking, bucking so hard off the bed it jostles Dean to the side. "You dick, oh, my god," he says, laughing and shoving Dean away with his foot. "I changed my mind, I don't wanna have sex with you anymore."

"Oh, c'mon, why you gotta be like that?" Dean asks, a twinkle in his eye as he laughs. "No, for real, though, lube's out in the rental. Want me to go get it?"

Seth shakes his head. No, he wouldn't mind feeling Dean inside him, over him, taking him apart piece by piece, but this is - laying here with Dean is just as good. "Nah, just - hold me?" It sounds so stupid once it's out of his mouth, and he hates that it makes him sound like such a fucking girl, but, fuck, sometimes all he needs is Dean's arms around him, feeling the hammer of Dean's heart pounding against his back, the feel of Dean's warm breath softly washing over his skin, Dean's arms wrapped securely around his waist: his safety, his protection.

Dean smiles softly, nodding, and he turns off the lamp on the bedside table, the room dark save for the small amount of light from the parking lot spilling in around the edges of the window, before his arms are looping around Seth's waist, pulling him in tight, tip of his nose brushing along the back of Seth's neck. "Everything's gonna be okay, you'll see," he says, squeezing Seth a little tighter.

"I believe you," Seth says, because even if he himself doesn't think everything's going to be okay, that doesn't mean he doesn't believe Dean when he says it.

If there's one thing Seth believes in, it's Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

Learning to be apart again, a trip to Coney Island, an enlightening conversation with Roman, and SummerSlam, rounding out Seth's summer.

* * *

The last couple weeks seem to fly by, and Seth tries to enjoy them as much as he can, but it's hard knowing that he won't be seeing Dean every day, that they might not even get to talk every day.

It's worse knowing that when they get to the airport tonight, he'll be flying back to Iowa, and Dean, Dean will be flying to Australia, putting them on completely opposite schedules for the few days he's gone, and while he sleeps off the jetlag to get him back on the schedule he needs to be on.

"I mean, yeah, it's gonna suck, but what can you really do about it?" Dean shrugs, peeling the tape off his hands. He wasn't needed for the Smackdown taping tonight, but he was dressed in his gear all the same, just in case.

"I could quit," Seth says, though that's merely just a pipe dream. Yeah, he loves Dean, and he wants to be with him as often as he can, but he'd never sacrifice his career for him.

Dean snorts. "I'd break up with you if you did somethin' that stupid," he says, and Seth's glad to know Dean wouldn't let him do something so idiotic, either.

"I'd probably break up with myself," Seth says. "You ready to get out of here?"

"I think Roman wanted to catch a ride to the airport," Dean says, pulling out his phone.

Seth frowns. He had been hoping it would be just the two of them, since the short drive to the airport is the last pocket of time they'll be able to be alone together until Dean's back home - back in Iowa. "Where is his pokey ass?" he asks, just as the door swings open.

"You lookin' to get your ass beat, Rollins?" Roman asks, raising an eyebrow.

Seth scoffs, laughs. "I could take you."

"Children," Dean says, raising his voice. "Roman, if anyone's gonna be beatin' Seth's ass, it sure as hell ain't gonna be you."

Roman narrows his eyes, making Seth laugh. "Man, I don't wanna hear about what y'all do in the bedroom, goddamn bunch of freaks."

"Why?" Seth asks, arms folded over his chest. "Jealous?"

"Oh, my god, can we just get outta here?" Roman asks, exasperated. "Promised my kid I'd call her before the flight takes off, and if she's asleep before I get that call made, y'all are both gettin' your asses whupped."

"How is she?" Dean asks, shouldering his bag. He steps closer to Seth, a fleeting touch of the tips of his fingers against Seth's hip, a soft smile that's meant for him and him alone.

"Misses her Uncle Dean," Roman replies, voice soft and fond in a way Seth's never heard it before. It's a little weird, hearing something like that coming from someone of Roman's size, who looks tough as anything, but Seth supposes that when it comes down to it, Roman really is a big fucking teddy bear. "She's good, though. Getting ready to go back to school soon."

Seth feels a little bad, now, hogging all of Dean's time. He wonders how often Dean would go home with Roman, back to his house in Florida, spend time with him and his family. "Why don't we take a trip down there before I have to go back to work?" he suggests, looking back and forth between Roman and Dean. "I mean, if Roman doesn't mind me tagging along or whatever."

"Nah, y'all are both welcome," Roman says, nodding. "Just lemme know when y'all wanna visit."

The conversation pauses as they shove everything into the trunk of the SUV, get themselves situated with Dean behind the wheel, Seth in the front passenger seat, Roman stretched out across the backseat.

"You sure you don't mind?" Seth asks. He doesn't want to seem like he's just intruding on their little family, like he feels entitled to being able to come along simply because he's dating Dean. He wants to be sure of his welcome before he and Dean even think about making the trip there.

"I'm sure, Seth," Roman confirms. "What do you say, Dean? I know JoJo will be excited to hear y'all are comin'."

"I mean, yeah, sure," Dean says, maneuvering them through traffic. "Not next week, but the week after?"

"That'll work," Seth says, nodding. There are still three weeks left before work starts full-time again. He plans on spending this week briefly outlining his course plan for the school year, getting his class lists from the main office, straightening out his classroom and getting everything in order there, which he figures he'll be able to do easily, what with Dean being gone and out of reach for pretty much the entire week. That also means that when Dean has his days off next week, they'll be able to spend those together doing absolutely nothing, and the week after will be dedicated to spending time with Roman's - Dean's - family, leading them up to SummerSlam, the last weekend Seth has before it's back to his life.

Seth's stomach twists and turns as the airport comes into view, and he has to keep swallowing to keep down the rock in his throat.

"I'll catch up with you inside," Roman says to Dean, voice soft, hushed, briefly squeezing Seth's shoulder as they pull up to the rental vehicle return.

Dean nods, shifting into park, popping the trunk so Roman can grab his bags, and when it's closed again, Seth looks over at Dean, feeling like his heart is stuck in his throat.

"S'only a week," Dean says softly, taking one of Seth's hands between his own.

"Yeah, I know," Seth croaks out, forcing his breathing to remain calm and even. Just a week, only seven days. No big deal. He's a fucking grown ass man. He can do this. But, god, he doesn't fucking want to.

"Chin up, buttercup," Dean says, playful, teasing, coaxing a small laugh out of Seth. God, he loves this idiot. "For real, though, just a week. I'll call once I'm back in the States, okay?"

Seth nods, not quite trusting his voice, and it only intensifies when Dean cups his face in both hands, resting their foreheads together, like he's losing a part of himself and needs this moment here to ground him.

"Love you, Seth," Dean whispers, lips brushing against Seth's as he speaks, sending little shivers up and down Seth's spine.

"I love you," Seth says, pushes his lips against Dean's, kissing him like this is the last time he'll ever be able to, like there's nothing else in the world that exists outside of them, this kiss, their love, and it's bittersweet in its intensity, ending far sooner than Seth would have liked, but they've got luggage to check, flights to catch.

One week. He can do this.

* * *

It's the longest fucking week of Seth's life.

He's finished everything he needed to for work, cleaned out his refrigerator and freezer, stocked it with fresh foods, done all his laundry and aired out the house, and he's gone back to working out early every morning, the ache in his knee a barely remembered thing.

He's gone to his parents' house for dinner a couple times, mostly because he hasn't seen them in so long outside of dropping Kevin off or picking Kevin up, and he hates the lying and evading he has to do when they ask where he's been, but what can he say about Dean, their relationship, that he's spent the entirety of the summer traveling on the road with him?

There isn't a real, believable reason he can come up with, and his lie of driving around during the week, sightseeing, taking time to himself, sounds hollow to his own ears. He's never lied to his mom and stepdad, and he hates that his relationship with Dean has made him.

Will there ever be a time where he won't have to hide it, where he won't have to lie all the time?

He hates it, so fucking much, because he loves Dean, he does, wants to be with him forever, but a lifetime of lying and hiding? He doesn't know if he can do it.

 _But sometimes love ain't everything._

Seth's terrified of just how true that might end up being.

* * *

Seth's just getting into the shower when his phone goes off, and he nearly tears the shower curtain down in his haste to get out and back to his room. He's breathing a little heavier by the time he answers, says, "Hey," ignoring the fact that he's a little wet as he sits down on his bed.

"What are you doing?" Dean asks, a flirty little chuckle that sends Seth's heart racing.

"I - what? Nothing," Seth says, brows knit in confusion.

"Sounded a little out of breath," Dean says, and oh. _Oh_

"I was in the shower, and I left my phone on the bed," Seth explains, feeling a little hot and bothered that Dean thought he was jerking off.

"Boring," Dean says, drawing it out for a beat. "Would've preferred the other thing."

"Perv," Seth teases, smiling. Fuck, but he's missed talking to Dean.

Dean hums softly, in agreement, Seth would like to think, says, "Anyway. I'll let you get to your shower. I just wanted to let you know we're in Seattle now. Gonna get a hotel and crash for a few hours. Fuckin' exhausted."

"Okay," Seth says softly. Yeah, he'd like to talk to Dean a little longer, but that long of a flight, plus the huge turn around in timezones, plus having to wrestle tonight, he understands that Dean's tired and all he wants to do is sleep. "Call me later?"

"Course," Dean says, then, softer, "miss you."

Seth's heart feels like it's doing somersaults in his chest again. "Me, too. Get some sleep. Love you."

Dean returns the sentiment before hanging up, and Seth tosses his phone back down onto his bed, rubbing his hands over his face.

He drags himself back to the shower, lathering up his hair and body while wishing he were with Dean instead, that the hands moving over his skin were Dean's and not his own.

It does little to ease the ache of loneliness he feels.

He heats a frozen pizza for lunch, settling down in front of the television with Kevin begging at his feet, gearing up for a game of Madden to pass the time, and it works, for a little while, until every game starts feeling the exact same, running up the score on the opposing team so badly it stops being fun.

"Goddamn, fuckin' pathetic," he says, tossing the controller down onto the coffee table. "What do you wanna do now, Kev?"

Kevin looks up at him, head cocked to the side. Not much help there at all.

"Wanna go to the park?"

Kevin leaps up onto the sofa, running around in excited circles, bouncing onto Seth's lap and back onto the cushion, back and forth while Seth laughs.

The dog park isn't a far walk, and Seth spends the better part of the afternoon tossing tennis balls for Kevin to fetch and return, watching as he runs and plays with some of the other dogs that are there, before he figures he should get Kevin home and hydrated, since he hadn't thought to bring the collapsible water dish Dean bought.

Seth whistles, and Kevin trots over happily, a stick held in his mouth. "No, little dude, time to go home," he says, carefully prying it from his mouth. He attaches Kevin to his leash, and he's so grateful Kevin's well-trained, following right beside him as they make their way home.

After filling Kevin's dish with fresh water, Seth takes his phone out of his pocket, illuminating the screen. Still no calls or messages from Dean, and it's late enough that Dean should be awake, at the arena already. He wouldn't doubt it if Dean overslept, though, and had no time to call, in a rush to get there and find out what he's doing for the night.

Seth sighs, throws his phone onto the kitchen counter. Might as well make something for dinner before he settles down in front to watch Monday Night Raw.

* * *

[06:17] overslept and was running late. sry i couldn't call. after the show?

Seth can't help but smile at that, even if he's a little worried about how Dean is going to fare tonight. He knows it's stupid, that Dean has done this for years, traveling from city to city to country to city, but he can't stop that worry from kicking in, nerves eating at his stomach.

{06:21} its okay. hope you slept well. good luck tonight, i'll be waiting for your call.

He doesn't receive anything back from Dean, but when he sees him on the screen, wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, he looks - he looks good, though there are still traces of exhaustion clinging to his face, so minute Seth wouldn't even be able to pick up on them if he didn't know Dean as well as he does.

Dean's talking about how he grew up alone, didn't have any friends, and it makes Seth swallow roughly, knowing exactly how that feels, and he's grateful beyond words that Dean has Roman now, Roman, his brother, his family, and he's so fucking glad he and Roman were able to move past their rocky beginning, for Dean's sake.

By the time Dean makes it down to the ring, he looks infinitely better somehow, so fucking good, strutting down the ramp in that fitted black tank, and Seth isn't even going to hide the fact that it makes him a little hard. Fuck, but his boyfriend's fucking gorgeous, thick biceps and broad shoulders on display, chest hair peeking out over the deep scoop of the neckline, shirt so tight it's clinging to and highlight how goddamn small his waist is, and Seth loves it all, the entire package: Dean, his ring gear, all of it.

Though it's a little difficult, Seth manages to peel his attention away from ogling Dean to focus on the match, and, of course, another fucking loss. Fuck. Dean is so good, so goddamn good, yet it's loss after loss. It makes Seth angry for Dean, because Dean is so much better than what his record would indicate.

He sighs, pushing a hand through his hair. He's glad Roman's there, with Dean.

He watches the rest of the show half-heartedly, playing tug of war with Kevin when he drops a stuffed animal at Seth's feet, and it isn't too much longer after Dean's match has ended that Seth's phone is ringing, skipping across the coffee table as it buzzes.

"Hey," Seth says, propping the phone up between his cheek and shoulder. "How are you feeling?"

Dean groans. "Sore, tired. Would be better if you were here."

"Yeah, me too," Seth agrees. No matter how he's feeling, he'll always feel better when he's with Dean.

"Talk to me," Dean requests, sounding tired.

"About what?"

"I dunno," Dean replies, brief static filling the line. "What you did last week, what you did today, anything. Just wanna hear your voice."

Seth feels warm all over, reminded once again of why he loves Dean as much as he does. He starts talking, starts with how he cleaned the house, went grocery shopping, washed laundry, all the boring, mundane things he hasn't had to do since he's been gone basically all summer - the couple days here and there they'd spend at Seth's house notwithstanding - and when he finishes up telling Dean about his class lists, the ideas he has for the school year, he starts talking about Kevin, how he took him to the dog park today for the first time in months, and Dean makes soft noises through it all, asking a question here or there to prove that he's listening, that he cares.

"How about you?" Seth asks, finally out of things to say. "How was Australia?"

"Didn't really do much sightseeing or anything," Dean says. "I hate flyin' to such a different timezone, not havin' time to get used to the change, then havin' to fly back home a few days later. Gets me all fucked up."

"You looked good, though," Seth points out, laughing softly.

"Watched me lose again, huh?"

Seth frowns. Bringing attention to Dean's loss wasn't his intention. He'd mostly only wanted Dean to know that he was watching, that despite how tired and crappy he may have been feeling, he still looked good to Seth. "Mostly just watched you look like a hot piece of ass," he says, hoping to lighten the mood.

"And you call me a perv," Dean retorts, laughing. "I ain't there checkin' your ass out when you're workin', am I?"

Seth shakes his head, though he knows Dean can't see. "What was it you told me? That you wouldn't be getting any learning done if I were your teacher? Seems like someone was havin' all kinds of fantasies then, huh?"

Dean snorts, an unattractive sound that briefly fills the line. "What can I say? I like the idea of you dressed all professional. Maybe I'll have to pop in durin' the school year or somethin', catch a glimpse of what those lucky little fuckers get to see every day."

"Yeah, because that definitely wouldn't cause any kind of disruption," Seth says, though he really wouldn't care. He'd love for Dean to visit him at work, even though he knows it's merely a dream.

"Lot of wrestling fans there?" Dean asks, sounds genuinely curious.

"I'm not actually sure," Seth replies. "I mean, I've seen some kids here and there in different wrestling shirts, but not everyone who's a fan is loud and proud about it, y'know?"

"Which is fuckin' stupid," Dean says, and Seth nods in agreement. He's never understood why people are so ashamed or embarrassed to admit they like and enjoy wrestling. He's always been vocal about his love for it, even when it got him shunned or made people look at him weirdly when he was a teenager. He loves what he loves, fuck what everyone else thinks.

Dean yawns loudly, making Seth wince in sympathy. "Dean, you should go to sleep," he says, feeling like an ass for being so selfish, wanting to keep Dean on the phone all night when he really should be resting.

"Yeah," Dean says, sighing. "Rome's just as beat. We're leavin' early in the morning to make it to the next city. Ain't either of us got the energy to drive anywhere tonight."

"Y'all heading to a hotel soon, then?" Seth asks, reaching for the remote to turn the television off. If he's going to be getting off the phone soon, might as well take Kevin out so he can lock up for the night and turn in himself.

"Mhmm, just waitin' on Roman's pokey ass," Dean replies, yawning again.

"Alright," Seth says softly, snapping his fingers and leading Kevin out to the backyard, flipping on the light in the back. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow night? Or Wednesday morning?"

"Depends what I'm doing for the taping tomorrow. Don't even know if I'm needed for anything, honestly. I'll probably end up gettin' in late tomorrow night, if that's alright?"

"Yeah, of course," Seth says. He really needs to make Dean a copy of his house key so he doesn't have to keep leaving his door unlocked. Yeah, he lives closer to the outskirts of town, away from the hustle and bustle of the downtown area, but leaving his door unlocked is still risky.

"Okay, See ya tomorrow night, then," Dean says. "I'll try not to wake you."

"Don't worry about it if you do," says Seth with a small laugh. He'd rather be woken by Dean any day than stay asleep, especially after not seeing him for a week. "Go, get some sleep. Love you."

"I will. Love you, Seth." Dean hangs up then, and Seth locks his phone, sliding it into his pocket. Dean sounds so fucking tired, and Seth knows it's just the timezone jumping, but goddamn, he just wants to wrap Dean up in every blanket he can find and make him sleep until he's no longer tired.

After Kevin finishes his business, Seth locks all the doors, turning off all the lights before he makes his way into his bedroom, tossing his phone onto the bedside table. His bed feels much too large for just himself when he finally turns off the light and lays down in it, so used to sleeping next to Dean, even after almost a week of once again having it all to himself.

Kevin jumps up onto the bed, plopping himself down on Seth's stomach. "Alright, you little baby. It's back to your own bed tomorrow," he says, settling a hand on the dog's back.

Being back to his usual routine of waking up early to workout has Seth much more tired, his body getting used to the constant strenuous activity again, and it doesn't take long for him to drift off to sleep, eagerly anticipating seeing Dean again.

* * *

Seth's day is boring, feels like it drags and drags, but he manages to get a key cut for Dean, placing it on plain keyring. He's trying not to make it a big thing, even though it is, even though he's never given any of his previous partners a key to his house. Yeah, Dean's talked about how he wouldn't still be with Seth if he didn't see any kind of permanent future with him, but Seth's always been of the mindset that actions speak louder than words, and giving Dean a key to his house - a key to his life - says that he doesn't want Dean to go anywhere, not now, not ever, wants him to feel as at home in Seth's house as he does in his own.

He keeps the key in his hand when he's not doing anything, feels the bite of the teeth digging into the pads of his fingers, the keyring looped around his finger. He's more than a little nervous to present it to Dean, and every time he thinks about it, about Dean rejecting it, telling Seth that he doesn't want it, doesn't need it, that he's okay with Seth just leaving the door unlocked for him or something, it makes his stomach churn uneasily, but he's come this far, and he's not backing down for anything.

The key gets placed in the top drawer of Seth's nightstand when he climbs into bed for the night, Kevin settled out in the living room on the sofa, and Seth's eyes catch on the bottle of lube there in the drawer, thoughts flying through his mind.

How better to welcome Dean home - because this is Dean's home, as much as his home in Vegas is - than to be prepped and ready, waiting for Dean to just slide right in?

It makes him a little breathless, a little hard, dick jerking where it's trapped in his shorts, and he grabs the lube, shucking his clothes before he lays back against the bed. He's still mostly soft, but it doesn't take long for his dick to start fattening up, running the tips of his fingers over his chest, his nipples, pinching and tugging at them, wishing it were Dean's mouth and teeth instead.

He slowly moves his hands lower, following the trail of hair on his belly, bypassing his cock for now to slide his fingers along the insides of his thighs, up and down until his dick is hard, jerking against his belly, finally wrapping a fist around himself and stroking slowly, already rocking up into it. He doesn't jerk off much these days, hasn't really had a need to when he's been with Dean every day, but he hasn't gotten off in over a week, and he's hungry for it, aching for it, grip tightening as he thrusts up into the circle of his fist.

He groans, feeling the throb of his dick in his hand before he pulls his hand away, swatting at the bed for the lube. He spills too much of it over his fingers, grimacing as the cool slick lands on his stomach. Making a mess hadn't been what he had in mind, but he shrugs it off, slicking up his fingers, trailing them down over his balls, behind them, skirting his fingers over the sensitive skin of his asshole before he teases the tip of a finger inside.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," he curses, all tight heat around his finger, and he rocks down against it, hips shifting back and forth, and it isn't long before he's needing more, slipping another finger inside, stroking along the inner walls before he gets to his prostate, moaning out loud as his fingers graze that spot, again and again, precome bubbling from the tip of his dick. He gets another finger in, so fucking tight around them it feels like all the circulation in his fingers is being cut off, but he stretches himself, opens himself up wider, jerking his cock with his other hand, heart hammering in his chest as his breathing quickens, shallow, fast pants that leave his mouth dry.

In his mind's eye, it's Dean's hands all over him, inside him, stroking him, fingering him, and his orgasm takes him by surprise, sudden like a fucking shot, squeezing like a vice around his fingers as he spills over his fist, his stomach, Dean's name a soundless cry from his lips.

His entire body is buzzing as he slides his fingers out and wipes them on the bed, legs shaky as he drags himself to the bathroom, washing his hands before he wets a washcloth and cleans off his stomach, and he debates putting new sheets on the bed before he decides fuck it, too spent to bother with it right now.

He trudges back to his bed, climbing in and pulling a sheet over his lower half, too hot for anything more. He tosses and turns, feeling the slick remnants of lube between his cheeks, how empty and open he feels, and it's hard to fall asleep like that, the minutes and hours slowly ticking by until he hears the front door open, Kevin barking, Dean futilely trying to keep him quiet.

There's no point in feigning sleep at this point, so he sits up against the headboard, pulling his hair out of the ponytail it's in to tie it up tighter from the loose bun it had fallen into.

It only takes a minute before Dean's pushing open the door to his bedroom, looking more awake than Seth expected him to.

"What are you doing up?" Dean asks, the door closing softly behind him.

Seth shrugs. "Too wired. Couldn't sleep," he says, only half the truth. It's more that fingering himself open was probably a bad idea, too aware of the space there where Dean should be, needs to be.

Dean raises an eyebrow, and, yeah, Seth should've known that Dean knows him well enough to know that the only thing that really keeps Seth awake and too wired to sleep is his sex drive. "In that case, imma go shower now instead of in the morning."

"Want some company?" Seth asks, though he really doesn't feel like moving, but he could be persuaded if Dean asked him.

"Tempting," Dean says, tongue swiping over his bottom lip, but he shakes his head. "In and out, five minutes."

Dean starts stripping off his shirt, muscles in his back flexing as he pulls it over his head, and Seth feels that low simmer of arousal start building.

Goddamn is he glad Dean's home.

* * *

And after, covered in dried sweat and come, breathing just gone back to normal only to increase again, Seth pulls the key from the bedside drawer, drops it onto Dean's chest. "For y'know, whatever."

Dean kisses him soundly, then reaches over his side of the bed for his jeans, his wallet, sliding the key inside it. He doesn't say anything, and Seth's not sure how to feel about that. No, he didn't want it to be made into a big deal, but he'd thought maybe Dean would have something to say about it, but, instead, all Dean says is, "Get some sleep. Gotta pack before the flight to Roman's tomorrow."

Seth settles back against Dean's chest, Dean's arm a firm band around his waist. Oh, well. He did what he'd wanted to do, and he's not going to take it back.

* * *

Spending a few days in Florida at Roman's house goes infinitely better than Seth thought it would, and he loves that Dean has found this little family for himself, somewhere he fits in and is loved, unconditionally, without reservations, because it's easy to see how much Roman, his daughter, and his wife love Dean, and they welcome Seth in like he's part of their family, too, no hesitation, no questions.

They leave in the early morning hours of the Friday before SummerSlam, a house show in Connecticut before they make the trip to Brooklyn, a day of rest before the big night, Seth's last big hurrah, back to work on Tuesday.

Dean has interviews he has to do with Roman early Saturday morning, and Seth takes the opportunity to sleep in, stretched out across the hotel room bed, wrapped in the soft sheets that already smell like him and Dean.

It's late morning when Dean gets back, his hand wrapped loosely around Seth's ankle, shaking him awake. "C'mon, sleepyhead, we're goin' out."

Seth mumbles sleepily, eyes slowly blinking open. "Wha's goin' on?"

Dean's hand inches up his leg, settling on his calf. "We're goin' out. Get up, shower, c'mon."

Seth drags himself into a sitting position, sheets pooled around his waist. He rubs his fists against his eyes, yawning. "How'd the interviews go?"

"They were alright," Dean replies. "Same questions as usual. Nothin' too exciting."

Seth hums softly, shaking off the last vestiges of sleep. "You eat yet?" he asks, climbing out of the bed and heading over to their suitcases, digging out a pair of shorts, a t-shirt, a clean pair of boxer-briefs. Dean is silent, and Seth turns to face him, smirking at the lust-dark look on Dean's face. "Eyes up here, dude."

Dean shakes himself, blinking rapidly as his tongue slowly licks over his bottom lip. "Just appreciatin' the view."

Seth snorts. "No time for that. Someone wants to go out today."

"I'm allowed to change my mind," Dean retorts, filthy grin stretched across his lips.

Seth shakes his head. "I'm going to shower, then we can go."

"Party pooper," Dean says, pouting. It shouldn't be as adorable as it is, a grown man who looks like he could fuck you up without breaking a sweat sitting there pouting, but, fuck, it's almost as adorable as Kevin giving him puppy dog eyes.

Seth showers quickly, scrubbing the generic hotel shampoo and conditioner through his hair, the cheap smelling bar of soap over his body. He steps out back into the room with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair dripping onto his shoulders, to grab the bag with his toothbrush and toothpaste.

"Sure you don't want to fit in a quickie?" Dean asks, eyes slowly tracking up and down Seth's body, warming Seth even more than the heat of the shower did.

It's tempting, so fucking tempting, but Seth's wide awake now, awake and out of bed, ready to get out and see what Dean has planned for them. "You expect me to want to move after you fuck me through the mattress?"

"Doesn't have to be the mattress," Dean mumbles, gaze heated. "Could be the wall, the desk, the counter in the bathroom."

Seth shakes his head fondly. "Play your cards right and you can have me anywhere you want when we get back," he teases, heading back into the bathroom to finish getting ready, chuckling at the groan Dean lets out.

Dean's sitting at the edge of the bed when Seth re-emerges from the bathroom, barefoot and shirtless, ten minutes later. He looks bored, impatient, leg bouncing up and down, and Seth moves a little faster in response, pulling on his shirt and throwing his hair up into a bun, slipping on his socks and shoes, a hat, and his glasses.

"Haven't seen you wear those in a while," Dean points out, gesturing with a nod to Seth's glasses.

"Dry eyes. Don't feel like messing with contacts today," he says with a shrug. He's been wearing contacts almost all summer, and with all the traveling he's been doing with Dean, it made more sense to leave his glasses at home - less risk of losing them or breaking them - but the constant contact wearing has dried out his eyes, and he's glad he actually decided to bring them along this time.

"I like them better," Dean says, standing. "Ready to go now?"

Seth nods, sliding his phone and wallet into his pocket. "Lead the way."

* * *

They're in the car for almost a half hour before they get to their destination, and Seth's pretty goddamn excited when Dean parks.

"For real?" Seth asks, looking back and forth between Dean, and the looping sight of the rollercoasters, all of Luna Park that he can see.

"Yeah," Dean says, sliding the keys into his pocket. "Haven't really had a chance to take you anywhere fun, y'know, so, since we're not needed today because they're gettin' everything set for tomorrow, thought this would be a cool place to bring you, y'know?"

"Hey, I'm not complainin'," Seth says quickly. "I'm pretty excited, actually."

Coney Island is somewhere Seth's always wanted to go, but, living in Iowa, he's had few chances to travel anywhere to New York, so it's always been a far off dream. That he's here now, with Dean, makes it all the more better.

"C'mon, then, what are we waitin' for?" Dean pops a pair of sunglasses on, along with a hat that covers his hair. It's as much of a disguise as Dean can manage without wearing layers and layers in the summer heat.

Dean pays for both their wristbands for the rides, though Seth protests, insisting he can pay for them, but Dean quickly puts an end to that by saying it was his idea to come, that he'll take care of it all, that it's a day for Seth to unwind and relax before he has to go back to work.

Seth wants to protest that, too, tell Dean that he should be relaxing and unwinding just as much, that he's got a huge match tomorrow night, but he doesn't, accepting Dean's offer with a nod and a smile. If his boyfriend wants to spoil him, who is he to deny him that right?

The park is full, people everywhere. Seth sticks as close to Dean as he can, and with the throng of people, it feels different, like Dean is afforded a certain anonymity here, and it makes Seth itch to reach out and grab Dean's hand, twine their fingers together, and he keeps making aborted reaches for it, snatching his hand back to his side every time he gets close.

"C'mere," Dean says, nearly drowned out by the crush of sound surrounding them, but Seth hears, even if only faintly, moving closer, heart kicking up a storm at the feel of Dean's hand warm against his own. "Where to first?"

Seth can't stop grinning. He looks around, taking in the rides and game booths surrounding them, and his eyes land on the highest ride he can see. "That," he says, gesturing with their entwined hands.

The Thunderbolt looks insane, and Seth's full of nervous excitement as they get in line.

"You sure about this?" Dean asks, leaning in close, his lips brushing the shell of Seth's ear.

"Oh, yeah," Seth says, nodding. "It's gonna be fuckin' awesome."

The line moves slowly, but soon enough, they're being locked into their seats, and then the cart is moving along the track, up a vertical ascent, and the drop that comes after it steals all the breath from Seth's lungs momentarily, the cart speeding along the twists and turns and loops, and all Seth can do is hold on and scream, laughing.

Dean's hair is a mess when the ride stops and they're let off, and Seth's sure his doesn't look any better, and his cheeks are flushed red, his lips stretched wide in a grin. Seth wants to kiss him.

"Next one?" Seth asks, breathless.

"My pick." Dean looks as giddy as Seth feels, and he lets Dean take his hand again, leading them to a ride that looks like a Ferris Wheel, but very obviously isn't when it comes to a stop. "This one."

The line is shorter, and it doesn't take long before they're allowed to choose their seats, Dean in front of Seth. The ride starts off slow, swinging them around and around in circles, gradually getting higher and higher, faster and faster, and there's no thrill for Seth here, only a sick dizziness that makes his head ache, and he's glad when it ends, unsteady on his feet for a minute.

"Yeah, that kinda sucked," Dean says, a hand at Seth's elbow carefully steering him away. "You alright?"

"I'm good," says Seth, though his stomach is still turning uneasily, his head feeling like it's spinning. "Where do you wanna go next?"

They spend hours walking around, going from ride to ride, stopping in between to play some of the games they come across, and it's one of the best days Seth's ever had.

They decide to end their night early, giddy and exhilarated as they make their way back to the car, and Seth pushes Dean up against it when they get there, his hands on Dean's hips, thumbs brushing up under his shirt. "Thank you," he says, tip of his nose brushing Dean's before he lets their lips meet, kissing him soft and slow.

"Anything for you," Dean says, chasing Seth's lips when he pulls away, and it makes Seth laugh, a short puff of air against Dean's lips. "Let's go eat, I'm hungry."

* * *

Seth wakes up early the next morning, Dean still asleep beside him. The sun's just barely risen, but Seth's wide awake, more alert than he wants to be, and he grumbles, rubbing at his eyes. There's no reason for him to be up so early, especially when he and Dean didn't fall asleep until late.

Dean tossed the sheets off his body sometime between those hours, and he's laying there now with one arm folded behind his head, the other resting on his stomach, naked and peaceful.

"Wake up," Seth whispers, poking at Dean's arm, but Dean doesn't move, breathing steady and even. "Wake up," he tries again, a little louder this time, and Dean only smacks his lips together once, still very much asleep. Seth rolls up onto his knees, then straddles Dean's waist, his hands on Dean's chest. "C'mon, wake up."

Dean's eyes slowly blink open, forehead creasing as he looks up at Seth. "Babe, c'mon, s'too early," he slurs out, sleep rough and gritty.

"I know," Seth says, falling forward, resting his body on Dean's. "Can't sleep anymore, though."

Dean's hands settle on his back for a moment before they start moving up and down the dip of his spine. "There's a gym downstairs you can use."

"Yeah," says Seth, "think I'm gonna." He stays where he is for a moment longer, though, breathing in the sleep warm scent of Dean's skin before he's pushing himself up on his hands, pressing a soft kiss to Dean's lips before rolling away, throwing on gym clothes and tying his hair up.

He's barely been in the gym for 20 minutes when Dean enters, looking grumpy and tired, and Seth feels like an asshole for waking him up so early, especially today of all days. He sighs, powering through the rest of his workout, drenched in sweat and pleasantly sore by the end of it.

"All done?" Dean asks, hair slicked back off his forehead, flushed with exertion.

Seth nods, wishing he had thought to bring a bottle of water with him. "Yeah. Gonna head back up to the room now. You good here?"

"Nah, I'll come up with you," Dean says. "I'm pretty much done. I'll get in a small workout at the arena."

The ride in the elevator up to their hotel room is silent, but Seth's mostly still trying to catch his breath, his mouth dry, and he finally apologizes when they get back into their room, says, "I'm sorry for waking you up. Wasn't really thinkin', I guess."

Dean waves him off. "No, it's okay. You know how much I hate mornings, but I needed to be awake, anyway. Gotta get the day started somehow, right?"

"You excited for tonight?" Seth asks. He pulls his sweat-soaked shirt over his head, uses it to wipe his face, the back of his neck. He needs a shower, badly.

"Kind of, yeah," Dean admits, grinning. "Time to put those Wyatt assholes away."

"You're gonna kick ass," Seth tells him, confident as ever in Dean's skills and abilities. "Shower?"

"God, yes," Dean says, stripping, and Seth follows him into the bathroom, eyeing the flex of muscle in Dean's back, his legs, his thighs. He pushes Dean up against the shower wall, warm water beating down against his back as his arms loop around Dean's neck, his hips pressed flush to Dean's, and he kisses him, soft and slow, because Dean's here, because he can, because there will never be a moment where he doesn't want to be kissing Dean.

"Win or lose tonight," Seth says, forehead rested against Dean's, "I'm still gonna be super fuckin' proud of you."

Dean kisses him again, hands cradling Seth's face. "How the fuck did I get so lucky?"

Seth shrugs, feeling his heart speed up. He feels like the lucky one, the average Joe with an average job who somehow lucked out and ended up with someone like Dean. "Shut up and kiss me," he says instead of answering, too flustered and speechless at the soft, reverent look in Dean's eyes.

Dean does, their lips moving together slickly, and then Dean's moving lower, lips trailing down until he reaches Seth's neck, and Seth can't hold back the shaky breath that escapes, warm all over, and he only heats up further when Dean's hand drifts down, slides over the slick skin of his hip to his dick, sure, strong fist wrapping tight around him.

The bathroom is cloaked in steam by the time they emerge, clean and sated, and they rush through getting dressed because Roman seems to have the worst timing ever sometimes, pounding on the door to their hotel room because, apparently, Dean said they'd meet him for an early lunch, fifteen minutes ago - which, seriously, "the whole hotel doesn't need to know, Roman, keep it the fuck down, dude."

"I wouldn't have to if y'all could just tell time," Roman fires back, knocking on the door again.

Seth's somehow finished dressing first, ripping the door open. "Good morning, Roman. Nice to see you, Roman. Thanks for telling the hotel our itinerary, Roman."

Roman raises an eyebrow. "Someone's a lil bit testy today."

Seth crosses his arms over his chest. "Your knockin' like a madman will do that to a person," he says, baring his teeth. "We just got outta the shower."

Roman laughs. "Figures that's why y'all are runnin' late. Don't y'all ever get enough?"

"Look at him," Dean says, coming up behind Seth. "Do you think I could ever get enough?"

Roman's face scrunches up, and he shakes his head. "Man, what did I tell you about that? I don't wanna know what y'all get up to, or how often y'all are doin' it. 'Bout to ruin a man's appetite, goddamn."

Dean punches Roman in the arm playfully, then flips him off. "Asshole."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, let's go eat before I really lose my appetite," Roman says. Seth turns to grab his phone and wallet from where he left them on the nightstand, but Dean already has them, handing them over with a grin.

"My knight in shining armor," Seth says, all light and breathy, batting his eyelashes for extra effect.

"Oh, screw y'all," Roman says, stomping out of the room.

Seth collapses against Dean's chest in a fit of laughter, and the shaking from Dean says that he's laughing just as hard. Messing with Roman will always fill him with a ridiculous amount of glee.

* * *

Lunch is a quick affair, Dean and Roman scarfing down as much as they can while Seth eats slower, enjoying the burger and fries he ordered. Dean and Roman are talking strategy, about the best ways to weaken the Wyatts, and Seth listens in, wishing he were a part of it, feeling a shock of envy buzz through his skin.

It's been awhile since he's felt that while around Dean, and he doesn't like it. He's come to terms with the fact that wrestling just wasn't what he was meant to do - came to terms with it years ago, when the doctor told him he'd never be able to move the way wrestling demanded of his body - and it's a surprise that he can still feel so fucking green about his boyfriend talking about it in front of him, like he hasn't spent almost the entirety of the last two and a half months on the road with Dean, watching the ins and outs of everything Dean does.

"You okay?" Dean asks, jerking Seth from his thoughts.

Seth looks up to see Dean and Roman looking at him, concern on their faces. "Yeah?" he says, confused.

"You were uh - you've been killin' your fries over there," Roman says, nodding down at Seth's plate, where, yeah, more than half of Seth's fries look like they've been stepped on. Shit.

"Just, y'know," he says, waves his hand around like that'll explain what he's trying to say. "Guess still kinda jealous that y'all get to do this and I can't."

"Dean never said - what happened?" Roman asks, voice all soft and careful.

Seth knows it's not that Dean never said, it's that Roman didn't want to hear, but for Roman to be asking him now, it means a lot. "I uh - I blew out my knee while I was at a wrestling school. Tore my ACL, MCL, and meniscus, and even with the surgery, the physical therapy, it just - it didn't heal right. Couldn't get back in the ring after that."

Roman blows out a breath, shaking his head. "Man, that's rough."

Seth feels Dean's hand on his lower back, grateful they're sitting in a booth so that no one can see. The touch calms him, soothes him. "Yeah," he says, shrugs his shoulders. "It is what it is, y'know? I mean, teaching ain't all bad, it's just not what I dreamed of doing when I was a kid."

"I was born into it," Roman says, pushing his plate away. "The Samoan Dynasty, as I'm sure you know, and for the longest time, I didn't want to do it. I wanted to be different, do something different than what was expected, so, I played football. I loved it, yeah, but it wasn't the same. This is where I'm meant to be, what I'm meant to do. Yeah, teachin' may not be what you dreamed of doin', but who's to say you'd be where you are now if wrestling had been where you ended up, y'know? I mean, maybe you still would've met Dean eventually, but it wouldn't have been the same, and y'all wouldn't be what you are now."

Seth's never really thought about it that way, how drastically different everything would be. Yeah, he loves wrestling, but he loves Dean more, and he wouldn't trade what he has with Dean for anything, not even another chance to step foot in the ring.

"Goddamn fuckin' teddy bear," Dean says, making Seth chuckle. "We all done sharin' and carin' here?"

Roman looks at Dean, mouth set in a line. "You sure know how to ruin some good bondin' time, dude."

Seth silently agrees with the sentiment. Sure, he and Roman have talked here and there, but nothing of substance, nothing like this, and it proves what Seth has always thought: that deep down, Roman really is a good guy, has to be if he's someone Dean calls family, because from what he's seen, what he's experienced, Dean keeps to himself, doesn't really talk to many people outside of Roman and his cousins, and for Dean to refer to Roman as family, there's no way he could be a bad guy.

"Nah, it's cool," Seth says, offering Roman a small smile. "We'll just have to leave his ass somewhere and go out for drinks sometime."

"Right, right," Dean cuts in, "leavin' me already, huh? It's the hair, isn't it? Knew I couldn't compete with that."

Seth pushes Dean out of the booth. "You're ridiculous."

"And you love me, anyway," Dean says, sticks his tongue.

"Now y'all are makin' me sick," Roman says, teasing.

Seth flips him off, laughing, and the waiter silently drops the bill at the table before scurrying off. "I got it," he says, sliding his wallet from his pocket and slipping his credit card into the bill folder.

"You don't have to," Roman says, but Seth shakes his head, insistent.

They return to the hotel after the bill's paid, long enough for Dean to double check the bag that has his ring gear, for Roman to run to his own room and grab his things, and for Seth to change into a pair of jeans and one of Dean's t-shirts.

"Still gonna fuck you in just one of those shirts one of these days," Dean says, conversational, like he's talking about the weather, not something that makes shivers race up and down Seth's spine.

It's nearing one in the afternoon by the time they're back in the SUV, on the way to the arena. Dean had told Seth that he didn't need to come along just yet, that he has to be there early to get a feel for the layout, to know how everything's going to go down, what the match order looks like for tonight, but Seth didn't want to stay at the hotel alone, with nothing to do for hours. At least at the arena, he'll be able to walk around, drink in the buzz and excitement from the other wrestlers and backstage personnel if he gets bored just sitting around until the show starts.

Dean and Roman have a shared locker room for the night, and they each take a side, strewing their things around. Seth stretches out across one of the benches, folding his hands on his stomach as he watches Dean take his things out of his bag.

"I'm gonna go run some laps," Roman says, sweatshirt hood pulled up over his head.

"Don't wear yourself out, man," Dean says, pausing for a moment to look over at Roman, returning to his bag to pull out a handful of different t-shirts.

Roman snorts, looking at Seth with narrowed eyes, says, "Yeah, you either."

Seth narrows his eyes right back. Fucker. So maybe he'd thought about getting on his knees and blowing Dean. It isn't anything that requires Dean to do any work.

As a matter of fact, fuck it, he wants to suck Dean off even more now, never mind the fact that he already did when they were in the shower only a few hours ago. "Hey," he says, motions for Dean to come over.

Dean raises an eyebrow, but he strolls over, jeans already unbuttoned. Good. Makes this easier for Seth. "Need somethin'?"

Seth grins, as filthy and flirty as he can, tongue swiping out over his bottom lip. "How long d'you think Roman's gonna be gone for?"

Dean's eyes are on his lips, and he licks his own in response. "Long enough."

Seth hums, says, "Good," and sits up, swinging his legs around so that Dean's standing between them. He trails his fingers up the crotch of Dean's jeans, grasping the tab of the zipper and sliding it down. Dean's wearing a pair of old, faded boxers, and that shouldn't be so hot, but, fuck, it is, the fabric so thin and threadbare it's almost translucent, doing little to hide the way Dean's perking up, and Seth wastes no time, mouthing down over the hard line of Dean's dick, dampening the fabric with saliva when he sucks at the tip.

"Shit, Seth, wait, lemme - " Dean pauses, wraps a hand in Seth's hair and tugs, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to pull Seth off his dick, and Seth really isn't a fan of that, looks up at Dean with a frown on his face, but Dean shakes his head, shoves his jeans and boxers down his hips, guiding Seth back to his dick when he's done.

Seth teases now, little swipes of his tongue and soft drags of his lips, suction barely there, but Dean's still hard, hot and heavy in his mouth, fingers scritching across Seth's scalp as he whispers soft words of encouragement and praise, and it fills Seth with so much heat, his body burning, hard inside his own jeans, shifting and shifting to relieve the pressure and ache.

Dean moves one of his hands to Seth's jaw, cradling it in the palm of his hand, thumb pressing in against Seth's cheek, and Seth can feel it, the pressure of Dean's finger pushing the soft flesh of his cheek in against the side of his dick, harder and harder until Seth's sure there's going to be a thumb-shaped bruise there, but it only spurs him on, makes Seth take him in deeper, longer, the tip of Dean's cock pushing at the soft space at the back of Seth's throat, Seth swallowing around him until his nose is pressed flush to Dean's skin, lungs burning for air.

"So fuckin' good, babe, holy shit," Dean curses, the hand in Seth's hair tightening, almost to the point of pain, but it makes Seth's dick throb, leaking in his jeans.

Seth pulls back with a strong suck, dipping the tip of his tongue into the slit of Dean's cockhead, salty tang of precome exploding on his tongue. He replaces his mouth with his hand for a minute, breathing rough and ragged, throat already feeling well-used. Dean fucks into the ring of his fist, abs tensing and flexing with every roll of his hips, and his face, fuck, Dean looks so fucking good, lips bitten red, eyes blown black with lust, cheeks flushed the prettiest shade of red.

He's aware that he probably looks like a damn mess, hair all over the place from how Dean keeps pulling and tugging on it, spit drying in his beard, lips wrecked and swollen, but he doesn't care, doesn't care about anything but getting his mouth back on Dean, feeling Dean slide in and out of his mouth, the words Dean keeps grunting out, rough and gritty like sandpaper.

"That - yeah, goddamn, Seth, don't stop," Dean says, rocks his hips forward and back, Seth's tongue licking and curling over every spot he knows makes Dean's toes curl. "Shit, shit, I'm gonna - " and he comes with a groan, gripping Seth's hair even tighter, pinpricks of pain exploding over Seth's scalp as Dean comes on his tongue, down his throat, salty and bitter and sharp.

Seth lets Dean soften in his mouth before he pulls off, licking his lips and looking up at Dean through the fan of his lashes.

"Goddamn, c'mere," Dean says, breathless, hands on Seth's neck to pull him up, smashing their lips together and licking inside, tasting himself from Seth's tongue. "I need - fuck, let me." He all but rips Seth's jeans open, shoving his hand inside, warm hand wrapping sure and tight around Seth's dick, and Dean strokes as best as he can inside the tight jeans, Seth rolling up into every slide of Dean's fist, gasping into Dean's mouth.

Seth was already so close - sucking Dean off really seems to do it for him - and Dean's hand around him quickly brings him to the edge, spilling hot and wet in Dean's cupped palm, face pressed to the sweat slick skin of Dean's neck.

"Can't feel my legs," Seth says with a laugh, a few moments later, his body buzzing while the last traces of his orgasm swim through his veins.

Dean pulls his hand free from Seth's pants, wipes his hand clean on his shirt, standing back and looking at Seth with a twinkle in his eye and a smile on his lips. "Think you sucked my brain out through my dick."

"Course I did," Seth says. He feels giddy, like all his bones have turned to liquid. "I'm just that good."

Dean hums. "No argument here."

There's a loud knock on the door, and Seth quickly straightens his clothes, his hair, knows it's a lost cause, though, because his lips feel swollen, his face still warm. Dean's pulled his boxers up, but his jeans are still around his thighs, and he doesn't look like he has any intention of pulling them back up. "It's just Roman," he says, when Seth tells him to put his damn pants back on.

"Hope y'all are decent," Roman says, peeking his head in around the door he's only just cracked open.

"Nah," Dean says, winking at Seth, "we're both buck ass naked."

Roman groans, but he pushes the door open wider, slipping in and shutting the door behind him. "Y'all think you're goddamn hilarious, don't you?"

"This asshole thinks he is," says Seth, jerking his thumb in Dean's direction.

"Of course he does," Roman says, shaking his head. It looks like he's trying not to grin, but at the sound of Dean's muttered "screw you both, I'm a goddamn comedian", he loses it, laughing and grinning while he rolls his eyes. "Anyway, they're lookin' for us, man."

Seth frowns, looking up at the clock. It's a little after two, and the preshow doesn't start for a few hours yet, and Seth doesn't know if either Dean or Roman have heard when they'd be going on.

"You good here?" Dean asks, finally pulling up his pants.

Seth nods. "Yeah. Go, do your thing."

Dean darts in and places a soft kiss to Seth's lips, ruffling his hair. "I'll be back," he says, whisper quiet, leaving after kissing Seth one more time.

The door clicks shut behind them, and Seth's left in the empty locker room, Dean's and Roman's belongings all over the place. He lays back against the bench again, and as uncomfortable as it is, he still finds himself drifting to sleep, awoken by the sounds of Dean and Roman coming back in.

"You can sleep anywhere, can't you?" Dean asks, standing beside Seth, an eyebrow raised.

Seth shrugs as he sits up. "It's a gift, I guess."

Time seems to speed up then, hours passing by in a flurry of watching Dean and Roman talk strategy again, Dean picking through his shirts and trying to find which one he wants to wear - Seth chooses the black tank top, since Dean can't seem to make up his mind - and both Dean and Roman going through a series of stretches and warm ups as showtime gets closer and closer.

Their match is sixth on the card, Dean had mentioned when they returned. Seth will make his way out to his seat once the match before theirs has ended. There's no way he's watching that one from anywhere but his front row seat, and all too soon, Dean and Roman are getting ready to head out.

Seth quickly grabs Dean, pulls him into a hug and kisses him. "Kick their ass."

"We plan on it," Dean says. "Go, get to your seat. Don't want you to miss anything."

Seth stops before he leaves, holds his fist out to Roman and waits for him to hit his own against it. "Show 'em why they shouldn't mess with our family."

Roman nods, silent and stoic, looking like he's already slipped into the mindset he needs for this battle, but that all goes to hell in a handbasket once the match is underway, and Roman's knocked out behind the announce table, Dean getting demolished in the ring, outside the ring, Bray Wyatt and Luke Harper picking him apart.

Seth almost can't bear to watch, his heart in his throat, and he can't even enjoy the fact that Dean's shirt's been ripped off, all those rippling muscles on display. He'd thought Dean and Roman had it in the bag, the way the match started, all the momentum on their side, but the tides quickly changed, and Seth's biting his nails, heart hammering, because Dean is getting destroyed, helpless in the middle of the ring.

But suddenly Dean's fighting back, and Roman's crawling back to their corner, and Harper is down, enough time for Dean to make the tag, and he does, Roman coming in and attacking, but Bray's there, that split second distraction all Harper needs to gain the upper hand, a sitout powerbomb from Harper, and Seth's sure that's it, but Roman kicks out, only a two-count, and how either of them are still finding the energy to keep going, Seth doesn't know, but Roman's serving out Superman punches like dessert, and Dean's back in, Bray on Roman's shoulders, Dean going up for an elbow off the top rope, and that should be it, that should've ended the match, but no, Luke Harper is there, breaking the pin, and Seth's about to rip his fucking hair out.

Another Superman punch to Harper, a double powerbomb and he's gone, out of the ring, but Bray's up again, kissing Dean's forehead, and no, fuck, Sister Abigail, but Dean's fighting back, and Seth lets out a huge breath of relief, Dean planting Bray with Dirty Deeds, and that's gotta be it, but instead of going for the pin, Dean tags Roman back in, and Seth's fucking confused, barely refrains from swearing up a storm, because that should be Dean's pin, but no, Roman's in the corner, a hunter stalking his prey, before he hits a spear, and it's one, two, three, over.

Seth's glad that they won, he is, but he can't help but feel a little bitter about it. He understands that Roman wanted his revenge against Bray, but Dean carried them almost that whole fucking match, and that pin should have been his.

He makes his way out of his seat, back to the backstage area, navigating the halls to get back to Dean and Roman's locker room, figuring there's no sense in being pissed about it if Dean looked fucking ecstatic to have gotten the win, anyway.

He has a flight back home tomorrow morning, and he's not going to waste the night being bitter and upset over something Dean's happy about.

And besides, Dean fucks like a goddamn machine when he wins, fueled by excitement and adrenaline, and Seth would be an idiot to put any kind of damper on that.

He's going to need it to get through the next few days.


	9. Chapter 9

Cohabiting (officially), domesticity, and a heart-to-heart that isn't easy, but makes them stronger in the end

* * *

Compared to being out on the road with Dean, being back home is… it's not terrible, is the thing. Sure, it's boring at times, and Seth isn't exactly thrilled about waking up at the ass crack of dawn every morning again, but it's nice being able to sleep in his own bed every night, being able to eat home cooked meals instead of takeout and restaurant food, or whatever looks questionably healthy at the gas stations they stop at.

It's only two days later that Dean comes home, and Seth already has the first day of school under his belt. The first week always seems to fly by, organizing paperwork and going over the syllabus with each class, handing out textbooks and course materials, and Seth's thoughts are so focused on making sure he has everything he needs for the week that it takes him by surprise when he wakes up Wednesday morning to find Dean asleep in the bed beside him.

He hadn't even heard Dean come in, isn't sure what time Dean arrived at, but the alarm clock on Seth's phone is blaring, and Dean's shifting restlessly, so it can't have been too long ago.

Seth reaches over to turn the alarm off, but before he can, Dean grumbles, "Turn it off or imma throw it out the window."

"Yeah, yeah, grumpy," Seth says, patting Dean's hip. "It's off. Go back to sleep."

"Mmm," says Dean, voice sleep rough and scratchy., "come back to bed."

Seth frowns, wishing he could. "I wish. Gotta get to the gym," he explains, though he'd much rather spend that hour and a half laying in bed with Dean than sweaty and tired in a gym.

"Oh," Dean says, "lame. Go, have fun." He makes a shooing motion, but it lasts for all of a second before his hand is falling back to the bed with a soft thump.

Seth climbs out of bed, uses the toilet before brushing his teeth and changing into his workout clothes. The sight of Dean laying in bed is tempting enough that Seth thinks about forgetting the workout altogether, but he powers on, touching the tips of his fingers to the soles of Dean's feet.

Kevin is surprisingly still asleep when Seth makes his way into the living room. Dean must have taken him out when he got in, Seth figures.

The gym is pleasantly empty when Seth gets there, and his workout goes as well as it usually does, muscles and lungs burning pleasantly, sweat trickling down his forehead, his back. He sips at his water bottle as he cools down, letting his breathing return to normal before he drives back home, surprised to find Dean awake and in the kitchen.

"What are you doing up?" he asks, setting his car keys down on the counter.

Dean's in nothing but a pair of boxer briefs, his hair sticking up in all directions, sleep rumpled and so fucking attractive it makes Seth's breath catch in his throat. "Thought I'd make you breakfast," he says, gesturing at the skillets he has on the stove.

"You didn't have to," Seth says, though he's grinning at the gesture, at the little furrow between Dean's brows as he looks down at the stove. There's nothing in either of the skillets yet, but the smell of coffee is quickly filling Seth's nose.

Dean shrugs. "Wanted to," he says. "Go take a shower. It'll be done by the time you get out."

Seth does, retreating to his bathroom, scrubbing the dried sweat from his skin and hair. When he gets out, he can smell bacon, and it makes his stomach grumble, reminding him that he barely managed to eat anything at all the day before. He dresses quickly, scrubbing a towel through his hair before he brushes it, pulling it into a low ponytail at the nape of his neck.

There are two plates on the counter when he gets back to the kitchen, and Dean is hunched over a cup of coffee, looking more asleep than awake.

"Smells good," Seth says, grabbing a cup of coffee for himself before he joins Dean at the counter. It's a simple breakfast: bacon, eggs, and toast, but it all smells good, and Seth digs in, ravenous.

Dean eats at a much more sedate place, and he's still picking at his plate when Seth finishes.

"You should go back to sleep," Seth suggests. He takes his plate to the sink and rinses it off, setting his empty coffee cup on top of it.

Dean turns to look at him, all sleepy eyes and slow movements, but he seems to perk up the instant his eyes land on Seth. "You're wearing that? To work?"

Seth looks down at himself. He's wearing a pair of fitted black slacks, a white button-down with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a black tie. It's no different than what he always wears. "Yeah, why? What's wrong with it?"

"Nothing," Dean says, a slow drag of his eyes up and down Seth's body, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Don't know how any of those kids learn anything, is all."

Seth raises an eyebrow in question, huffing out a laugh. "It's not that bad, c'mon."

Dean raises both his eyebrows, blue eyes bright. "I can see your nipples, and your pants leave very little to the imagination."

Seth folds his arms over his chest, feeling his face heat up. He dresses like this every day for work, and he's never given much thought to how tight his clothes are, or how tight they can be. It's what he feels comfortable in, and he thinks he looks good in it. "Should I change?" he asks, suddenly feeling self-conscious.

Dean shakes his head. "No, definitely not," he says. His gaze is heated, and Seth tries to ignore the way it's making him feel warm all over. He really doesn't have time for a morning quickie, much as he wishes he did. "You look real good. Little shit's better realize how lucky they are, gettin' to see you lookin' like that."

Seth laughs, rolls his eyes. Dean's praise is really doing wonders for his ego, if he's being honest.

"Time you comin' back at?" Dean asks. He scrapes the rest of the food on his plate into the garbage, then sets his plate in the sink.

"Not sure," Seth says, chews at the inside of his bottom lip. "Probably around four, five at the latest."

Dean nods. "I'll just hang out around here, maybe take the dog out for a walk or something."

"You should get some more sleep first," Seth tells him. There's no reason for Dean to be up this early, especially when it's one of his off days.

"Fully plan on it," says Dean, wraps Seth's tie around his fist and pulls him in, kisses him once, twice, soft and fleeting. "Go mold and shape some young minds."

Seth's eyes flutter open slowly, meeting the sleepy blues in front of him. "I'll see you later," he says, hating having to leave Dean.

"Hey," Dean says, tugs at Seth's tie. "I love you."

Seth smiles softly at Dean. "I love you."

It goes a long way in making Seth's morning fly by, and during his lunch break, he pulls his phone out of his desk to see a picture message from Dean. It's a photo of Kevin asleep on Dean's chest, the stubble on Dean's chin and the upturned corner of his lips the only other parts of him that are visible.

It instantly becomes the new lock screen on his phone.

He gets roped into small talk when he enters the office after school, submitting all the necessary papers and information for the students in his homeroom, and he hates small talk, he really does, but when they ask how his summer went, he smiles, can't help it, says, "Good, it was good. Did a lot of traveling," which is as much of the truth as he can tell them - would tell them even if he were able to be honest about being on the road with his wrestler boyfriend.

It's almost quarter to five by the time Seth pulls in the driveway, and he's greeted by the sound of Kevin barking, some old rock song playing, and the smell of food cooking. He could really get used to this, this slice of domesticity with Dean. "Honey, I'm home," he calls out, laughing.

Dean pops out of the kitchen, his face flushed. "Hey," he says, grinning. "I made dinner."

Seth sets his briefcase down on the sofa, toeing off his shoes. "What'd you make? It smells good." And Seth's not even lying, or trying to be nice. He wasn't aware Dean could actually cook - breakfast aside, because who can't make bacon and eggs? - and he's really fucking excited that Dean took the time to make him something.

"Spaghetti squash," Dean says, wiping his hands on the dish towel that's tucked into his front pocket. He tugs Seth in by his tie again, kissing him slow and deep, his hand curved around the back of Seth's neck. Dean tastes like mint from the gum he always seems to be chewing and garlic, and it should be a terrible combination of flavors, but tasting it from Dean's mouth somehow makes it more palatable. "You hungry?"

Hungry for food, or hungry for Dean? Because, either way, the answer is yes. "I could eat," Seth says, loosening his tie. "I'm gonna change quick. Wanna serve the plates?"

Seth changes into a pair of sweatpants and one of Dean's shirts that seems to have found a permanent home among his things. Dean has their plates waiting on the coffee table in the living room when he emerges, and the opening credits of a movie are playing on the television.

Dinner and a movie after a day of work? Jesus, Seth could not be more in love with Dean if he tried.

It's a lot easier to get used to being home than Seth thought it would be, the school year quickly picking up speed. He hates that he doesn't get to spend as much time with Dean as he's used to, but they make it work with the time they have.

Dean's there every day he has off, and he makes breakfast and dinner every day without fail, disregarding Seth's protests that he doesn't have to, adamant that it's the least he can do for Seth since Seth is busy working all day, which, Seth's not going to say no to Dean wanting to do things for him, but Dean works just as many days as he does, and he should get a chance to relax, too.

Before Seth knows it, September gives way to October, and almost two weeks without Dean.

Their last night together, Dean waits until Seth's home from work before making dinner, and Seth insists on helping, though he's probably more in the way than anything, but it's fun, being in the kitchen with Dean, watching him do his thing. It's so different from Dean in the ring, or Dean doing almost anything else. He's all fluid movements here, moving around seamlessly from the stove to the counter to the sink and back. That's not to say that Dean's all spastic movements any other time, but it's not as smooth as he is in the kitchen, like he doesn't even have to think about what he's going to do next, every move planned ahead of time right down to the second.

In the ring, there's that split second where he has to process his opponent's moves, reacting to however they react to him, and on the surface, yeah, it looks smooth, seamless, but Seth knows it's not, that there are those moments where you have to pause and assess the situation, small as it may be. There's none of that here, and it's kind of breathtaking to watch.

They eat in the living room, some random movie playing in the background, while Dean asks Seth about his day, the kids in his classes, how everything is going so far, and it's perfect, and they take Kevin for a walk after, Dean's hand low on Seth's back while Kevin's leash is wrapped around the other.

"I'm gonna shower," Dean says when they get back, unclipping Kevin's leash and shooing him away.

Seth loads the dishwasher while Dean showers, then waits in the bedroom for Dean to finish. Being back home means his weekends are free, leaving him with too much time on his hands. The previous weekend, he'd cleaned the bedroom from top to bottom, rearranging it in the process. He'd also added a tv, something the room didn't have before, and he turns it on now, setting the volume to low, flipping through the channels until he lands on SportsCenter.

Dean emerges from the bathroom a few minutes later. He has a towel slung low around his hips, and there's a wave of steam that billows out with him. "You don't mind if I leave some of my laundry here, do you?" he asks, and Seth only just refrains from rolling his eyes. Dean basically lives with him, and he's still asking if it's okay that he's leaving his dirty laundry for Seth to wash?

Seth waves his hand. "It's fine, Dean. Pretty sure a lot of your stuff has made its way into my laundry already, anyway."

"Probably," Dean agrees. "What're you watching?"

"Nothing," Seth says, "just have it on for background noise."

Dean hums softly, removing his towel and scrubbing it through his hair, and Seth's transfixed by the sight, how fucking huge Dean's biceps are when he's flexing. "C'mon, move over," Dean says, tossing the towel into the bathroom through the open doorway.

Seth shifts over, immediately tucking himself into Dean's side when he joins him. "You goin' to sleep soon?" he asks, walking his fingers up and down the center of Dean's stomach.

Dean's hand inches up under the back of Seth's shirt, fingers still pruned from the shower. "Nah. Just wanna lay here with you."

Seth hides his smile against Dean's chest, tilts his head up to press a kiss to Dean's shoulder. Dean's hand keeps moving slowly up and down his back, lower and lower with each pass until the tips of his fingers are skimming the curve of Seth's ass.

It makes Seth a little hard, a little breathless, the way Dean's touch always seems to. He starts slipping his hand lower in response, cataloging the changes in Dean's breathing as he skims the tips of his fingers down to the small tuft of curls at the base of Dean's dick, low enough he can feel the heat radiating from it.

"Yeah, that's it," Dean breathes out, hips shifting up into Seth's touch, but Seth pulls away, sits up and pulls his shirt off, wiggling out of his shorts and underwear, peeling his socks off, too.

Dean pulls Seth down against him, pressed together hips to hips, chest to chest. Seth leans down at the same time Dean surges up, and it's a clash of teeth before Dean's hands come up to cradle the back of Seth's head, angling him just so, then it's the slick slide of Dean's tongue licking into his mouth, teeth tugging at his bottom lip, and all Seth can do is moan, kissing Dean with as much passion as he can.

"I was thinkin," Dean says, mouth moving along Seth's jaw, over to his ear, tugging the lobe between his teeth, "that maybe you could fuck me, tonight."

All the air leaves Seth's lungs, and he goes rock hard so fast he's dizzy with it. Sure, he's rimmed Dean a time or two, gotten some fingers inside him, but for as much as he's thought about getting inside Dean, he never really thought he'd get the chance to. It's not like he minded. He loves feeling Dean inside him, stretching him, but the chance to be inside Dean isn't one he's going to pass up. "Yeah?" he asks, breathless.

Dean nods up at him, blue a thin ring around the blown-wide black of his pupils. "Yeah," he says, hands moving up and down Seth's back again.

Seth swallows nervously. He hasn't topped in a long time, longer than he cares to think about, and he's certain he's going to blow his load the second he slides inside. The few times he'd gotten his fingers inside Dean, he'd been so fucking tight around him, and his cock is thicker, easily, and he's pretty sure Dean's going to end up pulling his brain out through his dick. "Hang on," he says, climbs over Dean's body to reach the bedside table, pulling out the lube and a condom from the top drawer. He sets them down beside Dean's hip, moves his hands down the slope of Dean's shoulders, his clavicle, over the firm muscles of his chest, thumbs brushing over his nipples.

Dean sucks in a breath, releases it, his eyes watching Seth's every move, and Seth feels warmed through, so turned on he almost can't think straight. He replaces his hands with his mouth, sucking kisses down the pale skin of Dean's stomach, wishing he could leave bruises there for all the world to see. He laves his tongue over the jut of Dean's hipbone, trails his mouth down to the inside of Dean's thigh, pushing Dean's legs open wider. He leaves a bruise there, dark and purple and for their eyes only, and he does the same to the other side, arousal soaring through his veins.

"Suck me, Seth," Dean requests, gravel rough and deep. Seth thinks about teasing him some more, but he wants inside Dean in the worst of ways, so he wraps a hand around the base of Dean's dick, pursing his lips and kissing the tip, already wet and leaking.

There's nothing quite like having Dean in his mouth. He's not so large that it's ever uncomfortable, but he stretches Seth's lips pleasantly, and he's all salty, warm skin on Seth's tongue, Dean's hand at the back of Seth's head, not pushing, guiding, fingers tangled in Seth's hair as Seth works his lips and tongue up and down the length, tracing every vein with the tip of his tongue.

He pats at the bed for the lube, slicking up his fingers without removing his mouth, and he pushes one of Dean's legs up and back, giving Seth more room to work. He keeps his mouth moving, pays close attention to the head while he slips his fingers back and forth over the sensitive skin of Dean's hole, teasing the tip of a single finger inside.

Dean groans, deep and guttural. "C'mon, more," he rasps out, bottom lip trapped between his teeth when Seth looks up at him.

Seth happily obliges, slides his finger in all the way, screwing it in and out as he takes Dean in as deep as he can, throat working around the tip.

"Holy shit, stop, stop," Dean says, and Seth pulls off, alarmed. "Was gonna come," he adds, shaking his head and laughing.

It's good to know Seth's not the only one who's going to have problems not coming right away.

Seth licks his lips. They feel swollen. "Okay. I'll just - " He keeps working his finger in and out, adding another when Dean feels loose and relaxed. He almost can't believe he's here right now, feels like he's dreaming, Dean so hot and tight around him he can't even begin to guess how it's going to feel when he gets his dick in there.

A crook of his fingers and Dean's jerking like he's been shocked, his mouth dropping open on a soundless whine. "Right there," he says, eyes locked on Seth's, and Seth maintains that eye contact, rocks his fingers against that spot again and again until Dean's cursing, leaking and jerking against his belly. "I'm ready, m'ready, fuck me, c'mon."

Seth nods, slides his fingers out. He wipes them off on his thigh, then reaches for the condom, only for it to be smacked out of his hand. He raises an eyebrow at Dean.

"Just you," Dean says, firm, absolute.

Seth's mouth goes dry. "Are you sure?" he asks. They've never had sex without a condom, Seth's never had sex with _anyone_ without a condom, and this is big, huge. This is as much of a commitment as a proposal, in Seth's eyes, anyway. This is Dean saying he's here for the long haul, that Seth's the only one he wants to be with, and, okay, sure he's said it with words, has proven it a hundred times over with his actions, but this is something else. This is Dean proving that Seth is the only one he wants to be with - not that Seth ever thought otherwise.

"I'm clean, you're clean," Dean says, voice trembling the slightest bit, "and I love you. Only you."

Seth's at a loss for words, doesn't quite trust his own voice. "Me, too," he croaks out. "You're it for me."

Dean pulls Seth up to him, kissing him deep and thorough, Seth's heart hammering in his chest. "Let me," Dean says against his lips, and Seth's confused until he feels the slick of the lube and Dean's hand sliding over his cock.

It's almost enough to make him come apart, Dean's hand moving over his cock.

Seth reaches down between them, swatting Dean's hand out of the way. He grips himself firmly before he slides the tip of his dick against Dean's hole, eyes rolling to the back of his head when he pushes in, Dean so fucking hot and tight around him he almost can't breathe. "Holy shit," he gasps, keeps pressing in until his hips are flush to Dean's ass. "You okay?"

Seth rises up on his knees, Dean's legs wrapped around his waist. He wants to watch Dean's face, wants to see how he looks when he's being fucked.

"Just - don't move," Dean says, thready and tight. Seth slides his hand up and down Dean's side, across his hip, wrapping a hand around Dean's dick and stroking him back to full hardness. "I don't - I've never." His face flushes deeper, and Seth doesn't know if it's from arousal, shame, embarrassment, or some combination of the three.

Seth swallows roughly. "It's okay," he says softly, breathes slow and deep. He hadn't given much thought to if Dean had ever bottomed before, but knowing he hasn't, knowing that Seth is the first - the only - it makes Seth's heart feel so full he doesn't know how it isn't bursting out of his chest yet.

"You can move," Dean says, voice and body a little more relaxed.

Seth pulls back as slowly as he can, feels all the muscles in his body strain and shake as he forces himself to keep it slow and easy. The sound Dean makes when Seth thrusts back in is one Seth will never forget, this punched out moan that goes straight to Seth's balls, makes him thrust in a little harder, a little faster, his hand on Dean's dick stroking him in some off-beat rhythm to that of his hips.

"You feel so fucking good," Seth says, screwing his hips in deeper, searching out that spot that'll make Dean see stars.

"Now y'know how I feel every time I'm inside you," Dean says, words choked out between gasps. The flush on his face has spread down to his chest, and his hair is a mess, still damp from his shower, but Seth's never seen someone look so fucking good.

Seth groans. He doesn't know how much longer he's gonna last, but if Dean keeps clenching down around him, he knows it isn't going to be long. He slides Dean's leg higher up on his hip, and that seems to have done it, the change in the angle that Seth needed, because Dean's eyes are wide now, mouth moving silently before he says, "Yes, yes, right there, holy fuck," over and over, music to Seth's ears as much as the sound of his hips smacking against Dean's ass is.

Seth keeps his hips moving as steady as he can, his hand on Dean's dick never faltering, but it's too much, and it's over far sooner than he would have liked, spilling hot and wet inside Dean as his hand flies over Dean's dick, Dean coming over his fist with a moan Seth can feel down in his bones. He collapses forward onto Dean, forehead resting against Dean's shoulder.

"That was - fuck," Dean says, arms wrapping around Seth's waist.

Seth huffs out a laugh. "Yeah, that about sums it up." He feels sated, boneless, like he could lay here forever and never move, covered in sweat and Dean's come, feeling the hammer of Dean's heartbeat against his chest, the rush of Dean's breath over his skin.

"You're gettin' heavy," Dean says, pushing at Seth's shoulder. "Time for you to move."

Seth rises up on his knees again, narrowing his eyes down at Dean. "You're a filthy little liar," he says, tweaking Dean's nipple.

Dean sucks in his lips, fighting back a smile.

"Such a comedian, ha ha." Seth lets his soft cock slip out of Dean, rolling to his side and off the bed. "For real, though, you good?" He feels good, better than good, but more important than that is how Dean's feeling. It was a big deal for Seth when he first bottomed, and he remembers how vulnerable it made him feel, like he was wearing all his insides on his outside, everything he was thinking and feeling plain as day.

"I'm golden, babe," Dean says, stretching. He locks his eyes on Seth's, and if he's feeling any trace of vulnerability, Seth can't see it, only sees warmth and safety and the bluest of blue. "I love you."

Seth will never get tired of hearing that, no matter how long he lives, no matter how many times Dean says it, feeling settled and at home at the sound of Dean's voice. "I love you, too, Dean."

* * *

The first quarter of the school year ends near the end of October, and with it comes a four-day weekend.

When Seth wakes up that Friday morning, he's taken by surprise to find Dean still asleep beside him, his bags still unpacked. He shakes Dean awake, still groggy and half-asleep himself. "Hey," he says, his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Don't you have a plane to catch?"

Dean cracks an eye open, closes it. He shakes his head. "Off til Tuesday," he explains, burrowing further beneath the blankets. "Forgot to tell you."

That brings Seth to full awareness, and he sits up, turning fully to face Dean. He's not - he's not mad. Or, no, maybe he is, a little, that Dean neglected to tell him something like that. It's rare during the school year that any time off they have will line up like this, and he'd have liked to have done something, gone somewhere, before Dean takes off for Europe at the beginning of November.

"What do you mean you're off til Tuesday?" Seth asks, tries to keep the annoyance and irritation from creeping into his voice.

Dean opens his eyes, blinking rapidly before he sits up, creases from the pillow imprinted on his cheek. He still looks more asleep than awake, eyes opening and closing slowly, voice sleep rough and gritty as he says, "M'off til Tuesday. No house shows this weekend, ain't on the card for Hell in a Cell, and I guess I ain't needed Monday night, either."

Seth says, "Oh," isn't sure what else to say, but then he adds, "why didn't you tell me before?"

Dean squints his eyes, but beyond that, it's hard to make out his expression with the limited amount of light pouring in through the curtains. "Guess I just forgot," he says, hand coming up to run through his hair, mussing it even further. "And you've been busy with work and all. Just slipped my mind."

Seth hums softly. He's still a little irritated. "Would've been nice to know earlier," he says, hating the way he sounds like a pissed off child.

Dean climbs out of bed, and Seth swallows roughly, certain he's pissed Dean off, but Dean turns the light on, returns to the bed, expression closed off. "Okay. Do you want me to go back home, or?"

"No," Seth says immediately. If there's one thing he doesn't want, it's Dean leaving. And besides, "This is your home." He doesn't mean to say it, but it's a thought that's been at the forefront of his mind, since he gave Dean a key, even before that, and he's tired of just sitting on the words, especially with Dean referring to his house in Vegas as home when he hasn't been there in months.

"I'd like it to be, yeah," Dean says, nodding. "I mean, I ain't gonna sell the house in Vegas, but this house, bein' here with you, this _is_ my home, y'know?"

Seth swallows roughly. He didn't think Dean would agree to formally moving in so easily, and, truth be told, he doesn't want Dean to sell his house in Vegas. "No, I agree," he says. "About the house in Vegas. It could be like, a vacation house or something, right?"

"Hmm, yeah, it could be," Dean says with a smile. "So, I mean, if you wanna go somewhere this weekend, we could fly to Vegas, pack up my shit and spend some time there?"

It's not exactly Seth's idea of fun, but packing up Dean's things so he can finally, officially move in with him? It sounds like the perfect way to spend their weekend.

Or, in theory it did, but Dean has a surprising amount of things he wants packed and shipped, and the house is hot, the dry desert breeze doing little to cool it down, and it feels like they've made almost no progress in the time they've been here.

"D'you want any of the kitchen stuff?" Dean asks. He's sitting on the floor, surrounded by pots and pans, and Seth doesn't understand why.

"I mean, if we're gonna be usin' this place as a vacation house, it'd make sense to leave some of that stuff here, right?"

"Good point," Dean says. "I'll put all this shit back then."

He joins Seth a few minutes later, surrounded by piles of DVDs, and a ridiculous amount of VHSs. "Are we leaving this here, or shipping it back to Iowa?"

Dean looks thoughtful, eyeing the stacks of movies, and whatever is on the tapes. "You gonna have room for all of 'em?"

"I'm not sure," Seth says. His own movie collection isn't anything huge, but then again, his entertainment center isn't all that big, either. "I'll sort through 'em, leave all the ones here that I already have. Why don't you go pack your clothes and shit while I do this?"

"You wanna order Chinese for dinner?" Dean asks, already on his feet.

"Chinese sounds good," Seth agrees. "Order in an hour?"

Dean nods, then disappears upstairs, leaving Seth to sort through all of Dean's movies. It's boring work, and Seth's pretty sure they're going to end up with duplicate movies, but he wants to finish packing as fast as he can, and he ends up finishing before Dean does, taking the stairs two at a time to see how far Dean is.

The room looks like a hurricane swept through it when Seth reaches it. "What the heck," he says, wading through the piles of clothes all over the floor. "I thought you were packing, not making a mess?"

"I am," Dean says, pointing out a pile of neatly folded shirts. "I just - there's a lot of clothes, and I don't even wear half of it, so, y'know, trying to sort through it and figure out what I should keep and what I gotta get rid of."

Seth eyes the clothes dubiously. It looks like Dean's kept every shirt he's ever worn in his entire life. "Want help?" he asks. He figures if there are shirts Dean doesn't want, he can keep them and wear them when he works out.

It takes almost two hours to get everything sorted, folded, and packed, and by the time they're done, Seth's stomach is rumbling so hard it's become painful.

"Shit," Dean says, eyeing Seth's stomach worriedly. "Should've stopped to order food an hour ago."

Seth shrugs. Yeah, they could've, but Seth wouldn't have wanted to do anything after eating. It's better that it's done now. "Order now," he says, collapsing back onto Dean's bed, thankfully free of clothes. He's sweaty, and tired, and hungry, and he wants to eat, and shower, and sleep, and do nothing but lay in bed for the remainder of the weekend.

It's almost an hour before the food arrives, and after they've eaten, Seth's stomach pleasantly full, he asks if they're done for the night.

Dean's still eating, but he pauses mid-chew, nods. "Think we've got everything packed, yeah, why, what's up?"

"I'm gonna go relax in the bathtub," Seth says. He loves the Whirlpool tub in Dean's bathroom, and if this is the last time they're going to be here for awhile, Seth's not leaving without using it at least one more time. And besides, it'll help relax all the tense muscles of his back and shoulders from his workouts and sitting straight up in an uncomfortable chair all week.

"Let me put all this way," Dean says, closing up the takeout containers. There isn't much of anything left, but knowing Dean, he'll probably end up eating it in the middle of the night when he's looking for something to snack on. "I'll be up in a minute."

Seth smirks. He should've known Dean was going to want to join him, and he has no complaints about that.

He fills the tub with hot water, pouring in a cap-full of the Epsom salt that's sitting on the back ledge of the tub, and the bathroom is instantly filled with the scents of mint and rosemary. Seth's just gotten stripped down and settled in by the time Dean appears, shirtless, and he removes the rest of his clothes silently, his eyes on Seth the entire time.

Dean climbs in opposite Seth, their legs laying side by side, and Seth groans when Dean grasps one of his feet, thumbs pressing in against the arch. It feels really fucking good, sending tendrils of soothing relaxation through all of Seth's muscles, and he sinks further down in the water, letting Dean's hands work their magic.

"You're gonna drown if you fall asleep."

Seth blinks his eyes open. He wasn't even aware he'd started drifting off, but Dean's smiling at him, shaking his head. "You'd save me," he says, sitting up and turning around, scooting back until he's bracketed by Dean's legs, his back against Dean's chest, and his arms around Seth's waist. "This is nice," he whispers, letting his head fall back against Dean's shoulder.

They don't really have much time to just be together anymore. Their schedules feel like they're complete opposites; where Seth has the weekends off, Dean's days off are in the middle of the week. They're able to eat dinner together on those nights, but with the school year in full swing now, and with all the classes Seth has to teach, there's always papers and tests that need to be graded, lesson plans that need to be finalized, and it means his time with Dean gets cut short.

It makes Seth feel like shit sometimes, thinking about how neglected Dean has to feel, and it's why he was so irritated that Dean didn't tell him ahead of time that he was going to have a long weekend off that happened to coincide with his first quarter break.

Still, it's four days together, and Dean's officially moving in with him, and it's good, it's perfect.

"You looking forward to going to Europe?" Seth asks, his hands on top of Dean's, trailing over the bumps and ridges of his knuckles.

"Should be fun, yeah," Dean says, but he doesn't sound too thrilled.

"Don't get too excited there," Seth teases, feeling the soft huff of laughter Dean lets out against his neck.

Seth can feel Dean shrug in the way it shifts him. "Just - I'm gonna be gone for like, more than half a month. Sucks bein' away from you that long, y'know?"

Yeah, Seth knows. He's not exactly excited about Dean being gone that long, either, but he understands that it's part of Dean's job, much as it sucks sometimes. Still, it fills him with a ridiculous amount of warmth to know that Dean hates being away from him as much as he hates Dean being gone. "How are you even real?" he asks, words whispered beneath his breath, but still loud enough for Dean to hear. "I mean, you play this ridiculous tough guy so much of the time, but, like, you're not, at all."

Dean laughs softly, twines their fingers together. "That's all it is: me playin' a role." His voice is a low rasp in Seth's ear, and it sends shivers down Seth's spine. "Only thing me and that guy have in common is our name and face. I mean, yeah, lot of the shit I've said over the years is true, 'bout my parents and where I came from, the shit I did, but that shit doesn't define me. You learn from it and you move on, y'know?"

Seth swallows roughly, every promo Dean's ever done flying to the forefront of his mind. It makes his stomach twist and turn, the kind of life Dean had growing up, but looking at the man he is today, you'd never know some of the dark, twisted shit that's happened to him, and for that, Seth's grateful. That he uses it all to fuel his in-ring persona and doesn't let it drag him down shows how much he has moved on from it. It's not easy to overcome all those obstacles and be a well-adjusted person, and it's a testament to the strength and power of who Dean is that he not only survived, but thrived. "I love you," he says, because it's all he can think to say, the words pushed out of a throat that feels two sizes too small.

Dean kisses his shoulder. "Like us," he says, what feels like a non sequitur, until he elaborates, "my parents were fucked up, right, did a lot of terrible shit to each other, and I swore, I fuckin' swore that if I ever found someone who meant anything to me, I would never be like that, that I'd spend every fuckin' day of my life lettin' them know how much they mean to me, and I don't ever want there to be a day where you have to sit and wonder if I love you."

Dean's voice is a broken, tremulous whisper by the time he's finished speaking, and there's a lump in Seth's throat that's making it hard to breathe. His eyes are prickling with tears he's doing his best to blink back. The water sloshes around him as he moves, turning to seat himself firmly in Dean's lap, his arms draped loosely over Dean's shoulders. Dean looks - he looks fucking wrecked, flayed open, more vulnerable than Seth's ever seen him, and he has never loved someone so fucking much. "I love you," he says, kisses Dean's forehead, the tip of his nose, the curve of his cheeks, "I love you so goddamn much, jesus."

"Me, too," Dean says, low and strained, his hands on either side of Seth's face. "I don't - I just - Seth - "

Seth presses his lips to Dean's, ending his frustrated stammering. Seth doesn't need anymore words, because what else can be said? Dean just laid himself bare, and he looks raw, fragile, and Seth loves him with every beat of his heart, every breath in his lungs. "C'mon," he says, whispers against Dean's lips. He rises to his feet, pulling Dean up with him. He rubs a towel haphazardly over himself before he dries Dean off, taking Dean's hand in his and leading Dean to the bedroom.

It's not about sex right now, as he pushes Dean back onto the bed, covering Dean's body with his own. Dean's blinking up at him, looking at Seth like he's waiting for Seth to put him back together, to show him that no, his past doesn't define him, that whatever happened doesn't make Seth think any less of him, doesn't make Seth love him any less, and it's scary, fucking life changing, knowing he has the power to make or break the man laying beneath him.

"I'm here," he says, kisses Dean soft and slow, cupping the curve of Dean's jaw. The day old stubble tickles his palm, but it's a fleeting sensation compared to the way Dean's lips feel against his, the wet slide of Dean's tongue in his mouth. "M'not goin' anywhere."

"I know," Dean rasps, shuddering beneath him. "Me, either."

Seth fumbles around for the bottle of lube, vaguely remembering they'd shoved it under a pillow the last time they were there, and he gets his fingers slicked up when he finds it, reaching behind himself to stretch himself open, Dean watching his movements with hooded eyes.

They're both hard and sweating by the time Seth's ready, and he slicks Dean up before he holds him in place, rocking back in tiny increments until he's sitting flush to Dean's hips, and there's nothing but the sound of their breathing, the gentle slap of skin on skin, the soft sighs and moans that they can't hold back, grounding themselves in each other as much as in the here and now.

It's like every nerve in Seth's body explodes when he comes, Dean's fist wrapped just right around him. There are stars shooting behind his eyes, and he can't seem to catch his breath, his body trembling, Dean pulling out every aftershock he can as he rocks up into him, spilling hot and wet inside him, grip so tight on Seth's hip he's almost certain there will be bruises there later.

Seth tries to roll off and to the side, but Dean keeps him where he is, the grip on his hip tightening even further before Dean releases it, rubbing his palms up the insides of Seth's thighs. "Stay," he says softly, tugs at Seth's hand until Seth slumps down against him, hands smoothing up and down the sweat slick skin of his back.

It's a little uncomfortable, and one of Seth's legs is starting to cramp, but he feels at home here, settled in his skin, like no one and nothing else exists outside of them here in this house, in this moment.

It's a long time before he moves.

* * *

Seth finds it pretty pointless that Dean has to fly out for Tuesday's taping of Smackdown, then fly back home Wednesday morning before the next round of events starts, but Dean does it, echoing Seth's sentiments when Seth gets home from work Wednesday.

"I mean, I know that's how it goes sometimes," Dean says, fingers drumming against the countertop, "but like, couldn't they have found someone else for that match and just let me have the night off instead of makin' me fly out for one night?"

"That'd make your life way too easy," says Seth, sticking out his tongue at the narrow-eyed look Dean gives him. "Hey, did your stuff get here today?"

Dean nods. "Yeah. Already got it all put away."

Seth feels downright giddy. Dean lives here now. He'll be able to open the closet and see Dean's clothes in there, knowing that that's where they'll always be, their lives completely intertwined now.

It helps ease the ache of loneliness Seth feels when Dean leaves again, gone until almost the middle of November.


	10. Chapter 10

A cold, Survivor Series, Thanksgiving, and finally meeting the parents.

I hope y'all had a great Thanksgiving. I'm super thankful for all your guys' continuing support for this, and everything else I write. It means a lot to me.

* * *

"So, a tournament, huh?" Seth asks, drinking in the sight of Dean stretched out on his hotel bed, thousands and thousands of miles away.

"That's what it's lookin' like, yeah," Dean replies, nodding. His hair is wet, curling around his ears, and his eyes are bright, blue and clear. "Guess we're gonna find out for sure Monday."

"Makes sense," Seth says. There are papers spread out on the coffee table in front of him, assignments that need to be graded, but he hasn't had much of a chance to talk to Dean, so when Dean had sent a message asking if he was up for Skyping, Seth had shoved everything aside and settled on the sofa, head propped up on a throw pillow, laptop on his chest. "How's everything going over there?"

Dean shrugs, a frown on his lips. "S'okay, I guess. Lonely without you."

"Yeah," Seth says, sucks in his bottom lip. "It sucks here without you. The bed feels too big."

Dean laughs softly. "Don't know how, you practically sleep on top of me."

"Not my fault you're comfortable," Seth retorts, fights down a smirk at the indignant look on Dean's face.

"You callin' me fat?" Dean scowls. Or tries to, anyway. His lips keeps twitching like he wants to laugh.

Seth snorts. "Oh, yeah, of course I am." He shakes his head, laughing. For all the muscle he has in his arms, his back, his chest, Dean's waist is ridiculously tiny. Seth loves Dean's back, how broad it is, and how it curves and tucks in at his waistline.

Before Dean can say anything else, his gaze skitters away from the screen, his head turning to the side, and Seth can just make out the sound of the door opening, closing, and then Roman's voice, a deep rumble off in the distance.

Dean's eyes flick to him, then back to wherever Roman is, and Seth raises an eyebrow, though Dean isn't paying attention to him, Roman going on in the background about how tired he is, how he just wants to sleep for a week.

"Then lay down and go to sleep, Roman," Dean says, cutting off Roman's tirade. "M'tryin' to talk to Seth, you rude ass."

Seth bites his bottom lip to keep from laughing, though it's a close thing with the face Dean is making.

Roman's face appears in the frame, squeezed in against Dean's. "Hey, uce, how's it goin'?"

A surge of warmth takes up residence in Seth's chest, flowing through his veins. _Uce_. _Brother_. "Hey, Rome," he says, trying to remain unaffected. He never thought they'd get to a point where they'd be anything beyond amicable, but they'd somehow settled into an easy friendship, and Seth was good with that. He wouldn't have ever asked for more, but having Roman call him _uce_ , _brother_ , being accepted into their family, it's… Seth doesn't have words. "Eh, y'know, workin'. Bein' bored as shit since someone's gotta be on the other side of the world."

Roman laughs, ruffles Dean's hair. "Yeah, he's been a mopey little thing over here."

"Have not," Dean says, glaring at Roman. He's pouting, arms crossed over his chest, but he won't look at the camera on his laptop, won't meet Seth's gaze.

"He's precious like that," Seth teases, feels a laugh bubbling up in his chest at the affronted look that comes over Dean's face.

"Y'all suck," Dean says, "I'm going to shower."

Dean disappears off-screen, and Seth frowns. Is Dean really that bothered by their teasing? "You already showered," he says, but he doesn't think Dean hears, if the sound of a door slamming in the background is anything to go by. "Is he okay?" he asks Roman, feeling something sick and unpleasant twisting in his stomach.

Roman's eyes dart off-screen, then back to Seth, lips drawn into a thin line. He shakes his head. "Don't think he's been sleepin' much, to be honest," he says, sighing softly. "Happens sometimes, with all the timezone jumpin' and shit. Makes him real restless, gives him a bad case of insomnia. It's what happened the night he met you."

There's a rock of worry settling in at the pit of Seth's stomach, but he forgets about it in an instant, focuses intently on Roman, the pinch in his brow, the downturn of his lips. "What do you mean?" Seth asks. He hadn't really given much thought to what exactly Dean had been doing in Davenport, beyond wondering why Dean was so far from where he was supposed to be.

"He gets restless and antsy sometimes, like, too much adrenaline and he just wants to keep goin', y'know, like his body hasn't gotten the memo that it can chill," Roman starts, his voice low and quiet. "He used to do that from time to time, just take the car and drive, said it calmed him down or whatever. Anyway. It's like, 6:30 in the morning and I've got a radio interview to do, but Dean's gone and the keys are gone. So, I'm waiting, and waiting, and I have to take a damn cab to the interview, right, and when I get back to the hotel, Dean's there, lookin' goddamn ridiculous with this dopey ass smile on his face." Roman stops, smiling and shaking his head. "Said he drove all the way to Davenport, stopped at a gym and met someone, kept going on and on about his eyes and his ass, and how bad he wanted to see him again."

Seth feels himself blush, a soft little smile on his lips.

"It was love at first sight. What can I say?" Dean's face pops into view on Seth's screen again. He looks calmer now, though it doesn't look like he showered again, his hair slowly drying into messy, haphazard curls. "I knew we were gonna be something good."

"Yeah, yeah yeah," Roman says, flicking Dean in the ear. "Here, finish talkin' to your boyfriend. I'm goin' to sleep."

"Goodnight, Roman," Seth says, a small wave of his hand, which Roman returns with a smile and a nod. "You okay?" he asks Dean, after Roman's out of view and Dean's settled on his bed again.

Dean nods, rubbing a hand over his face. "Haven't been sleeping well," he admits, shrugging a shoulder. "Just a little homesick, I guess."

Seth swallows roughly. Dean won't be home for a week and a half yet, and he's more than worried about how that's going to affect Dean. "What can I do?"

Dean shrugs again, says, "I dunno," blowing out a slow breath. "Just, I dunno, talk to me?"

So Seth talks. He sits upright, setting his laptop down on the coffee table, and rambles about the kids in his classes, starts reading bits and pieces of some of the stories he'd had his creative writing class do, and when he looks up again, at the end of a paragraph, Dean is laying on his side, cheek smushed in against the pillow, his lips parted slightly, asleep.

It's a relieving sight, to see Dean asleep, after hearing that Dean hasn't been sleeping much at all. He types out a message, hits send, then closes the video chat after one last look.

 _You fell asleep, and I didn't want to try and wake you. I love you, and I'm here, always._

* * *

Seth's been trying to fall asleep for hours now, but it's nearing two in the morning and sleep is as elusive as it was four hours ago. He's got the tv on low, some cooking show playing in the background, and he knows he's going to hate himself in the morning, in the middle of the day, when he's trying to power through his lesson plans running on little sleep and a lot of caffeine.

A new episode of the cooking show starts, and Seth sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. He's been up for nearly 22 hours now, but he can't sleep, no matter how many different positions he tries laying in, how much exhaustion he feels weighing him down. He'd talked to Dean hours and hours ago, and Dean had sounded tired, like he was catching a cold, and Seth's worried that Dean hasn't been sleeping again.

The bedroom door opens, and Dean's there, looking like every step is harder than the last. He doesn't have any of his bags—probably left them in the living room—and Seth's glad for that. If Dean looks this bad, the last thing he needs to be doing is carrying his bags around and trying to get them all sorted and out of the way.

Dean collapses onto the foot of the bed, falling back and groaning. "Feel like shit," he mutters, rubbing at his eye. He sounds even worse in person, congested, voice hoarse.

Seth tosses the blankets away, climbing off the bed and rounding to the foot of it, squatting down and removing Dean's boots. "C'mon, jeans off," he says, waits for Dean to unbutton and unzip them before he tugs them down and off, tossing them away. "You got your jacket?" Dean nods, shrugging out of it before he hands it to Seth.

Dean's still wearing a hoodie, but Seth doesn't make him take it off, urges Dean to scoot up on the bed, climbing back in himself and pulling the blankets over them, tucking Dean in against his side. "Thanks," Dean says, a croak of a whisper, his hand settled on Seth's ribcage.

"Sleep," says Seth, fingers carding through Dean's hair.

He doesn't get much sleep, too worried about the heaviness of Dean's breathing, and he ends up forgoing his morning workout, driving to the nearest pharmacy instead. He stocks up on cough drops, canned soups, orange juice, and every cold and congestion medicine he can find.

Dean is still asleep when he gets home, but he's snoring, his mouth open wide like he can't breathe at all through his nose, and Seth hates to wake him, he really does, but Dean needs to take something to help his breathing, to help the rattle he can hear in Dean's chest.

"Dean," Seth says, lays a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Babe, wake up."

Dean grumbles, sitting up, and his next breath causes his body to be wracked by a coughing fit, so hard and sharp Seth winces. He puts his hand on Dean's back, rubbing in soothing circles until the coughing subsides. "Goddammit," he curses, wipes the back of his hand over his mouth.

"I got you some stuff," Seth says, settling on the bed in front of Dean, placing the bag of medicine beside them. He puts his hand to Dean's forehead, and Dean feels hot, burning up, and Seth considers calling in, not wanting to leave Dean alone.

"What'd you get?" Dean asks, voice scratchy. He leans into Seth's touch, his eyes closing, and he looks as though he's about to fall forward when Seth takes his hand away to rummage through the bag of things he bought.

Seth pulls out the different pill boxes, cough syrup bottles, the bag of cough drops, a bottle of orange juice, and a bottle of water. "Not sure what'll work for you, but there's some of everything here, so."

Dean grabs for the bottle of water immediately, unscrewing the cap and chugging it down.

"Hey, hey," Seth says, "slow down."

Dean makes a face, but he pulls the bottle away. "Feels good on my throat."

"I got you some cough drops for that," Seth points out. He knows it's nothing like cold water, but soothing all the same.

"I hate cough drops," Dean says, pouting. "Make my mouth feel gross."

And apparently Dean is going to regress to behaving like a little kid. Seth's in for a treat.

"Yeah, but they'll make your throat feel better," says Seth, trying to sound convincing.

"Don't want 'em." Dean picks up the bag of cough drops, throwing them across the room.

"Dean, seriously?" Seth blows out a slow breath. Now's not the time to lose his patience. "At least take one of the medicines I got you."

Thankfully, Dean does, but he complains about it the entire time. Seth leaves the bottle on the nightstand, tossing everything back into the bag. "Want the orange juice, or should I put it in the fridge?"

"Hmm, fridge," Dean says, collapses back against the pillows. "C'mere, lay down."

"I've gotta get ready for work," Seth says regretfully. "I can let Kev in here after I take him out?"

Dean sighs, or tries to, cut off by another coughing fit.

"Just—take it easy today, okay? There are cans of soup in the kitchen if you feel up to eating. I'll try to be back right after I'm done for the day, alright?" Seth trails his fingers down the line of Dean's jaw, to his shoulder, squeezes before letting go. As much as he hates leaving without a kiss, he can't afford any kind of sickness right now.

Dean's asleep again by the time Seth's done showering and getting dressed, and he has just enough time to drink a cup of coffee while Kevin does his business outside before he has to go, his mind preoccupied all day, worried about how Dean is doing, how he's feeling, but when he takes his phone out during lunch, there are over a dozen texts, all some form of Dean begging for Seth to come home.

"How are you feeling?" Seth asks, phone pressed to his ear, Dean's stuffy breathing filling the line.

"Come home," Dean whines, drawing out the vowel way longer than necessary. "I miss you."

Seth smiles softly, fondly, warm all over. A whiny, clingy Dean, and he's stuck at work? How cruel is the world. "I'll be home in a few hours," he reminds Dean. "Besides, you've got Kevin there to keep you company."

"S'a dog, Seth, not the same as you," Dean complains, and Seth supposes he has a point. Kevin is great, the best dog Seth's ever had, but having him around isn't the same as when Dean's there.

"I know, but I've gotta work," Seth tells him. "Much as I'd rather be home with you, bills gotta be paid."

Dean sniffles. "I guess. How much longer?"

"Couple more hours, promise."

* * *

Dean's cold is finally gone by the time he hits the road again, and Seth's beyond relieved. It was like all the traveling Dean had done had finally caught up with him, and being sick dragged him down even further, and he was left with almost no energy for anything, spent the entire time off lazing around in bed, or on the sofa, or wherever Seth was, demanding all of Seth's attention. It's not that Seth minded, because he loves knowing that Dean wants him, needs him, but he had work to do, and as much as he'd wanted to cater to every one of Dean's needs, he just couldn't, no matter how hard he tried.

Dean understood, though, once the fog of sickness and exhaustion passed, and he was a little more than embarrassed about his behavior, apologizing profusely even though Seth kept telling him it was fine, that he didn't mind.

It's Sunday now, and Seth's settled in the living room on the sofa, a blanket from their bedroom draped around him like a cape, Kevin curled up next to him. He hates that he can't be with Dean tonight, stuck at home because he has to work in the morning, but he'd talked to Dean earlier, told him what's quickly becoming his way of saying good luck: _win or lose tonight, I'm still gonna be super fuckin' proud of you._

Dean's got a match against Kevin Owens first, and when—because Seth knows he's going to win, feels it in his bones—he wins, he's going to have one more match, against Del Rio or Roman, this one for the vacated title, and Seth has every bit of faith that Dean's going to win it all, that his boyfriend's going to come home with the gold.

And it looks like Seth's right, Dean defeating Kevin Owens, up against Roman in the main event, and Seth's heart is in his throat. He gets distracted when Dean comes out, leather jacket unzipped to show that he hadn't bothered replacing his torn shirt from earlier, all that finely muscled skin on display.

His nerves go haywire when the bell rings, and it feels like he can't breathe through the entire match, both Dean and Roman leaving every bit of themselves in the ring, and it's close, so fucking close, the momentum shifting with almost every breath, and then Dean hits Dirty Deeds and Roman's down, and that has to be it, Seth yelling, "C'mon, c'mon, you've got this," but then Roman kicks out, and Dean's beating his hands against the mat, losing precious time that he should be capitalizing on.

Seth's stomach plummets to his feet, and he swallows roughly. That running jump off the middle turnbuckle and it's just enough time for Roman to get into place, to send Dean to the mat with another spear, and it's over. Dean lost.

"Fucking bullshit," Seth curses, barely resisting the urge to throw something. He's upset and frustrated, because Dean deserved to win that, he fucking earned it. Seth's not trying to take anything away from Roman because he loves Roman, too, but not the same way he loves Dean, not even close, and as much as Roman deserved the win, Dean will always deserve it more in Seth's eyes. That's his boyfriend, his best friend, his other half, and he will always, I _always_ /I be in Dean's corner before he's in anyone else's.

Dean gets up, finally, an arm wrapped around his waist, and he hugs Roman with the other, tangling it in Roman's hair, dropping a kiss to the side of Roman's head before he rolls out of the ring, and it has to be so bittersweet for Dean, but Seth's so goddamn proud of him. He feels a lump forming in his throat as he watches Roman cling to the belt, hoisting it high above his head, the fireworks and confetti falling, the pure, raw emotion there on Roman's face, the way he keeps staring down at the title like he's afraid it'll disappear if he takes his eyes off of it, and Seth knows how that feels, looks at Dean like that every day of his fucking life, can't believe he got so goddamn lucky.

But then Triple H's music is cutting the celebration short, and Seth feels dread settle in his stomach, a heavy rock sitting there, and he doesn't want to watch, but he can't make himself look away, Roman turning his back on Triple H's handshake, turning around again to nail him with a spear, and then Sheamus is there, a Brogue Kick and he's cashing in, and Seth wants to scream and punch something because Roman doesn't deserve this. As much as Seth had wanted Dean to win, as much as he had thought Dean _deserved_ the win, Roman doesn't deserve to have fought so hard only to have it ripped away like this.

By some miracle, Roman manages to kick out, and Seth thinks he's got this, that he'll be able to power through because he's Roman fucking Reigns, there's nothing that can keep him down, but Sheamus hits him again, and Roman's lost, laying helpless in the middle of the ring, no longer the champion.

Seth can't bear to watch any longer, shutting off the tv and punching the sofa beneath him. He's so fucking glad Dean didn't win, because he would've flown to fucking Atlanta in a heartbeat and burned the place to the goddamn ground. That was so much bullshit, Seth almost can't breathe through the rage he feels on Roman's behalf. After everything, for it to end like that. Fucking pure and utter bullshit.

Seth takes Kevin out one last time, fills his dishes with food and fresh water, and crawls into bed feeling the bite of irritation and frustration still licking at his veins.

He sweats it out during his morning workout, and he feels a little more calm by the time he's showered and dressed for work, but the day drags on, feels like it's been weeks instead of hours before he has his lunch break, digging his phone out of his desk immediately.

bad night. sry I didn't call

Seth hadn't expected Dean to call, truth be told, and it's part of why he'd gone to sleep so early. He doesn't begrudge Dean for tending to his brother. Family should always come first.

it's okay. How are you doing? How's Roman?

Seth tries not to stare at his phone while he waits for Dean's response, busies himself with picking at the chicken wrap he'd packed for lunch, though he isn't feeling all that hungry.

There's only a few minutes left of his lunch hour by the time he hears from Dean, and instead of it being a message, his phone buzzes, skittering across the desktop. "Hey," he says softly, eyeing the door as he settles back in his seat.

"Feels like I haven't heard your voice in forever," Dean says, soft huff of laughter tingling up Seth's spine. They'd spoken before Dean had to get ready last night, but Seth understands what he means, how it feels like the longest time ever when things are bad, stressful. "I'm alright, though. Little upset I didn't win, but, y'know, guess it's better than bein' in Roman's position."

"I thought you had it," Seth confesses, running his thumbnail along the edge of his desk. "But, regardless, you were fuckin' amazing last night, and I'm ridiculously proud of you."

"Means a lot," Dean says, sighing softly. "Roman, though. Don't think I've ever seen him so upset. Not that I blame him. That shit was fucked."

Seth makes a noise of agreement, but doesn't add anything else on that topic, feeling the burn of irritation scratching at his skin again. He doesn't want to get into it now, not when he still has half of his work day left. "Hey, my lunch break is over," he says, trying not to pay too much attention to the slow trickle of students making their way through the door just yet. "Think you're gonna have time to call tonight?"

"I'll try to," Dean replies. "But go, get your teaching on."

Seth smiles softly. "Love you," he says, waits for Dean to return the sentiment before he ends the call, setting his phone to silent before he puts it back into his desk.

"Who's got you grinning like that, Mr. Rollins?" One of his students is standing in front of his desk, an eyebrow raised. "You finally seeing someone?"

Seth laughs, shakes his head. "Get to your seat." Nosy little thing.

* * *

With Thanksgiving being Thursday, Seth's work week ends once he leaves the school on Tuesday. He's relieved the week is over, loosening his tie and kicking off his dress shoes the minute he steps inside his house, setting down his briefcase and putting it as far out of his mind as he can. He has five days off, no papers or assignments to grade, and his lesson plan is finalized through the end of the month.

What he hasn't done, though, is any of the grocery shopping for Thanksgiving, and he groans when he realizes it, swapping his dress pants for a pair of jeans, his button-down for one of Dean's t-shirts.

Shopping two days before Thanksgiving is probably one of the worst decisions Seth has ever made. The store is packed, and it takes longer than it should, but Seth gets everything he needs: a small turkey, a small ham, gravy, dinner rolls, everything needed to make stuffing, green bean casserole, an apple pie, and a pumpkin pie, and a small bag of potatoes.

Looking at it all spread out on his counter, though, he thinks he may have gone a little overboard, especially since he hasn't the slightest clue how to make half of everything he bought. Mashed potatoes? Sure, fine, no problem. Stuffing? Green bean casserole? Jesus, he'll be lucky if he has a house by the time he gets through it, and he hopes that Dean at least knows what he's doing.

But apparently, Dean is just as clueless as he is.

"You're so good at cooking everything else," Seth points out, tugging at his hair. His nerves are already frazzled, and it's barely nine in the morning.

"I've never had to make any of this shit before," Dean counters, eyeing the array of foods spread around the kitchen. "Roman and his wife always did the cooking. All I did was eat."

Seth manfully resists the urge to cry. This is their first Thanksgiving together and he'd wanted everything to be perfect. Neither of them knowing what they're doing, however, is throwing a huge wrench in that plan.

"Okay, well," Seth says, throwing his hair up into a bun, "shouldn't be that hard, right? We'll find some recipes, and go from there."

Dean looks dubious, but he nods in agreement. "I'm going to take Kevin for a walk while you do that."

Seth narrows his eyes at Dean, but he blows out a breath, says, "Okay, that'll work," because he'd only managed to let Kevin out back quick before he and Dean had started discussing the food, and if Kevin doesn't get his morning walk in, he has too much energy, and Seth can't afford to have him underfoot in the kitchen, not while he and Dean are trying to get everything made.

Seth carries his laptop into the kitchen, clearing a space on the counter for it, and he has six different tabs open by the time Dean comes back.

"So, where do we start?" Dean asks, coming up beside Seth.

Seth shrugs. He has no fucking idea. "Probably all the sides and stuff," he says, which makes the most sense, because that way all that will be left is cooking the ham and the turkey, and everything else can be stored away in containers until those are done.

"This is a lot of food, Seth," Dean says. "Do we really have to make it all?"

They don't have to, no, but Seth's never had a Thanksgiving without all the trimmings, and he doesn't want to start now, not when this is his and Dean's first Thanksgiving together, when he wants it to be one they'll always remember.

"It can't hurt to try," Seth says with a shrug.

The casserole is easy enough, and they've just gotten it into the oven when Seth's phone starts ringing from the living room, and dread and worry sit heavy in his stomach when he sees that his mom's calling. "Hey, mom," he says, dropping down onto the sofa, worrying at a loose thread on the hem of his shirt.

"Hi, baby," she says, voice warm and soft, comforting in a way only a mother's voice can be. "Your dad and I just wanted to check and see what time you were coming at."

Seth swallows nervously. "I uh—I'm not gonna make it, Mom," he says, forcing the words out. He knows she's going to be upset, and he hates that he's the one upsetting her.

"What do you mean, you're not gonna make it?" she asks, voice rising. "It's Thanksgiving, Seth."

"I know, Mom, I just—" Seth pauses to take a breath, to parse the words out in his head before he verbalizes them "—I'm having my own Thanksgiving this year. With my boyfriend."

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," his mom says, accusingly curious. "That's fine. You can bring him over. You know there's going to be more than enough."

"I can't," Seth says, hating himself for it, for disappointing her. His relationship with Dean has started to strain his relationship with his parents, and Seth keeps wondering if it's going to be worth it in the long run. Yeah, they talk about being together in ten, twenty years, but things happens, feelings can change, and is it going to be worth losing the relationship he has with his parents so he can be with Dean?

"You can't," she echoes, flat, toneless.

"I'm sorry," Seth says, forces the words out around the lump in his throat. There's nothing else he can say, no words that'll make this better.

"Me, too." And then she hangs up.

Seth sets his phone down on the coffee table, removing his glasses and pressing the heels of his hands against his eyes. He knew his mom wasn't going to take the news easy, but he hadn't thought it'd be like that, that she'd hang up without so much as an _I love you_ , and he feels like shit for it, for ruining her day, for upsetting her.

"Everything okay?" Dean asks when Seth returns to the kitchen, counter cleaned and dishes washed.

Seth chews at his bottom lip, his arms wrapped around himself. He shrugs. "Not really," he says, refusing to meet Dean's eyes. He doesn't want Dean to see the sheen of tears in his eyes, how he feels like he's going to break apart at the seams because he upset his mom, how his relationship with her has felt strained ever since they started dating because of all the lying and hiding he's done.

"Seth?" Dean says, stepping closer, his hands on Seth's shoulders.

"I don't think I can do this anymore," Seth says, finally meeting Dean's eyes. He can't—the lying, the hiding, it's too much, and if he can't share with his parents the person he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he's going to lose his mind. He loves Dean, loves him with everything he has, and he wouldn't trade what they have for anything, but he can't keep it hidden anymore, not from the two other people in his life who mean the most to him.

"Can't do this anymore?" Dean asks. He pulls his hands away, steps back, entire line of his body going tense, like he thinks Seth's going to break up with him, when, jesus, Seth would rather cut off his own hands than ever lose Dean, but something's gotta give here.

"The lying, the hiding," Seth elaborates, quickly shutting down that breakup train of thought. "You didn't hear how my mom sounded when I told her I was seeing someone, that I wasn't going to make it to her house today because I wanted to spend it with you."

"I never said you had to," Dean says, stepping in close again. "You wanna tell your parents? That's fine by me. I never wanted or expected you to hide or lie to them because of me, Seth."

Seth collapses against Dean's chest, feels like he can breathe again. He's an idiot for never asking Dean, for just assuming things because of who and what Dean is. "I'm sorry," he says, burying his face in Dean's neck. He smells like faded laundry detergent, soap, like warmth and comfort, safety and home.

"C'mon," Dean says, hand smoothing up and down Seth's back. "Go get dressed. I'll take the casserole out of the oven and put everything else away."

Seth blinks rapidly to clear the tears from his eyes before he pulls back enough that he can see Dean's face. Fuck, he has the best boyfriend in the world. "Are you sure?"

Dean nods. "Should've done it awhile ago. Said I ain't goin' anywhere, right? Shouldn't have taken this long to meet your parents."

Seth changes into a pair of well-fitting jeans, a t-shirt, and a soft gray sweater, fixing his hair before he goes back out into the kitchen where Dean already has everything cleaned up and put away.

"You look good," Dean says, nodding his head in what Seth assumes is approval. "I'll be right out." He leans in and kisses Seth on the cheek as he passes, and when he emerges from their bedroom, he's wearing a light-wash pair of jeans and a deep red button-down shirt, top two buttons undone, showing off the hollow of his throat.

The shirt really highlights the breadth of Dean's shoulders, the wide expanse of his back, and it's easily one of Seth's favorites. "We ready to go?" Seth asks, pulling his eyes away from how well the shirt fits. He's not sure they'll ever make it out of here if he keeps imagining what it'll be like to push the shirt off Dean's shoulders, how well the color will contrast with the paleness of Dean's skin once he gets it unbuttoned and open.

Seth slides his phone into his pocket, grabs his keys from the counter. "You wanna grab Kev?"

The chill of the late November air is biting, and Seth hurries to unlock the doors, slide in behind the wheel, Dean in the passenger seat, Kevin sitting in his lap.

"Now I'm reminded of why I moved to Vegas," Dean says, rubbing his hands together. "Fuckin' hate the cold."

"Suck it up, you big baby," Seth says, but he turns the heat on full blast, teeth chattering as he buckles himself in.

Dean snorts out a laugh. "Yeah, because you're not freezin' your nuts off over there."

The roads are quiet, almost no traffic, and it doesn't take long before Seth's pulling into the driveway of his parents house, heart beating a mile a minute. It's early, and he's sure his mom's still elbows deep in pie baking, but as nervous as he is, he's more than ready for this. He wants the love of his life to meet the two greatest people he knows, who raised him and helped shape him into the man he is today.

"I feel like we shoulda brought somethin'," Dean says, exiting the car, Kevin tucked inside his jacket.

"They'll have everything," Seth says, pocketing his keys. "You ready to meet my parents?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess," Dean says, turning to meet Seth's gaze, grinning. "Yeah, let's do this."

Seth lets himself in through the front door, inhaling deeply at the scents that are already filling the air: the spice of pumpkin pie, the smell of cinnamon, warm and inviting. He takes off his coat, hanging it on the coat rack, motioning for Dean to hand his over as well. Kevin goes trotting off through the house and Seth grimaces, knows it's only a matter of seconds before his mom or stepdad comes to investigate.

They don't come out, though. The living room is empty—save for Kevin already curled up on the recliner, no wonder—as Seth had figured it'd be, and he leads Dean through to the kitchen where his parents are, bickering over how much more cinnamon should be added to the apple pie. It brings a smile to Seth's face, one he couldn't hide even if he tried. He wants that with Dean, to bicker over the small things, nothing but pure love and affection between them, even after twenty years together.

Seth grabs Dean's hand, twines their fingers together, squeezing. He clears his throat, laughing softly at the startled expression on his parents' faces. "Happy Thanksgiving," he says softly, delighting in the way his mom seems to be too shocked to move. He doesn't blame her. Not even an hour ago he was telling her he wasn't going to make it, that he was staying home, and now he's here, standing in the kitchen, holding Dean's hand. "So, this is my boyfriend, Dean."

His stepdad gives him a flat look, a sarcastic _no, seriously, tell me something else I don't know_ look if Seth's ever seen one. Sometimes Seth forgets his parents occasionally watch wrestling still.

"Dean, my mom and stepdad," Seth says, stomach churning with nervous excitement.

"Mr. Rollins, Mrs. Rollins, it's nice to finally meet you," Dean says, smiling politely, offering his hand for them to shake. "I just wanted to apologize for keepin' this relationship from you all. I take it y'all know who I am?" At their nod, Dean smiles. "So you can understand Seth's hesitance in telling you. It's not that he wanted to hide it or anything, he just thought it was the best thing to do, given who I am and what I do."

His mom's already looking at Dean with fond eyes, and Seth feels all his nerves settle.

"Not trying to be rude," his stepdad says, looking back and forth between Seth and Dean, his lips twitching, and, oh, Seth is not going to enjoy this, "but Seth, how the hell did you land someone like Ambrose?"

Dean barks out a laugh, and Seth elbows him in the stomach. "Ha ha ha, you're hilarious, Dad."

"I thought it was funny," Dean says, smirking.

Seth narrows his eyes at him. "We'll see how funny it is later."

Dean's face falls. Yeah, not so funny now. "Aww, c'mon, babe, don't be like that."

Seth shakes his head, but he can't keep the smile off his face. He steps further into the kitchen, rounding the counter to his mom, pulling her into a hug, not caring that she's covered in flour, that he's going to get it all over his sweater. "I'm sorry, Mom."

She pulls back, puts a hand to Seth's cheek. "It's okay. I understand. I'm not exactly happy that you hid it, but I understand. Tough place to be in, and you had to do what was best for both of you."

"How long have you guys been together, anyway?" his stepdad asks, and Seth really doesn't want to answer that. His mom is going to smack him upside the head.

"Since April," Dean says, leaning against the opposite side of the counter. The bowl of sliced apples is in front of him, and he digs one out, popping it into his mouth, grinning while he chews.

"Since April?" his mom repeats, pulling his ear. Goddammit, that shit hurts. "Seth Rollins. Seven months and you waited this long?"

"Ow, ow, ow, Mom, I'm sorry, let go." He massages his ear when she does, pouting at the look of absolute glee that's on Dean's face right now. Fucker. See if he gets laid tonight.

"For that, you can peel and quarter the potatoes." She points to the counter beside the stove where the bag of potatoes sits. As far as punishment goes—never mind the fact that he's 29 and she shouldn't even be punishing him anymore—it's not so bad.

It's actually relaxing to peel the potatoes, no thinking required, and he lets the easy chatter between Dean and his stepdad wash over him, happy that they finally decided to do this, that the three most important people in his life have finally met, and that they're actually getting along.

"Where do you want me to put these?" Seth asks once he's finished. His mom swoops in, taking the bowl Seth had put them in and dumping them into a pot. She fills it with water and sets it on the stove, shooing Seth out of the way. "Alright, alright, I know when I'm not wanted anymore."

After he washes his hands, Seth sidles up behind Dean, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist, resting his forehead against the back of Dean's neck. He's thankful for Dean, for his family, for everything they've done and continue to do for him, and he's glad they decided to do this now, today, the day that reminds him to be thankful for everything he has.

* * *

Seth is so stuffed he doesn't think he's ever going to move again. Every time he'd said he was done, his mom had given him another serving, griping that Seth was looking too thin, never mind the fact that Seth's actually filled out with more muscle over the last few months. He overdid it on the pie all on his own, though. He definitely shouldn't have had that last slice, but pumpkin and apple pie, and he couldn't just have one and not the other.

"Do you need any help cleaning things up, Mrs. Rollins?" Dean asks. How he isn't in a food coma yet is beyond Seth. He easily ate almost double what Seth did, and he's up and moving like he didn't just eat enough to feed a small army.

"No, sweetheart," his mom says, waving Dean off. "You're a guest. Just relax, and try to keep Seth from falling asleep. That boy never seems to know when to quit when it comes to Thanksgiving."

"Because you kept giving me more food!" Seth says, affronted. He's not foolish enough to say no to his mom when it comes to her feeding him.

Seth moves into the living room, Dean following behind him, and they settle on the sofa, Seth's head pillowed on Dean's thigh, a football game on low in the background.

"You gonna fall asleep?" Dean asks, scritching his fingers along Seth's scalp.

Seth feels content, sleepy, blinking slowly up at Dean. "Might," he says, though he knows it's a lost cause. Sleep is nipping at his heels, and he's powerless against it, asleep between one breath and the next, and when he wakes up an hour later, Dean's head is lolled back against the sofa, his eyes closed as he snores softly.

"He seems like a good man." The voice startles Seth, and he turns his head to find his parents sitting on the loveseat, his stepdad's arm curled around his mom's shoulders.

"He is," Seth says, knows it down to his bones. Dean is one of the best men he's ever known, and he's beyond lucky to have Dean in his life. "He's the one who made the decision to finally come today. Said it was long overdue."

"He was right," his stepdad says. "Like your mom said, we understand why you didn't tell us, or why you felt like you couldn't tell us, we just wish you would have trusted us a little more."

Seth swallows roughly. He'll admit that he messed up pretty good there.

"You should get him home," his mom says, nodding at Dean's sleeping form. "I can't imagine he gets to sleep all that much."

"No, not nearly enough," Seth agrees. He sits up, his stomach calmer, more settled, and he gently coaxes Dean awake. "Babe, wake up, let's go home."

Dean snorts awake, looking around before his eyes land on Seth, a small sleepy smile playing at the edges of his lips. "Long was I sleepin'?"

"An hour, probably," Seth says, grimacing at the stale taste in his mouth. He loves napping when he can, but after eating and not brushing his teeth? It makes his mouth feel and taste gross.

"Mmm, alright, I'm up." Dean runs a hand through his hair, scooting forward to the edge of the sofa, and he waits for Seth to stand before he rises to his feet as well, rolling his shoulders back and stretching his arms out. "It was good to finally meet you both," he says to Seth's parents, shaking his stepdad's hand and pulling his mom into a hug. "You've got a great son."

Seth feels his face heat, an embarrassed, pleased flush suffusing his skin. He couldn't have pictured today going any better than it has.

After loading them up with leftovers, and extracting a promise to visit more often, Seth, Dean, and Kevin pile into the car, making the drive across town back home.

"Your parents are really nice," Dean says, once they've gotten home, storing the containers of leftovers in the refrigerator. The drive home was silent, Dean dozing with his head against the window, and it's the first thing that's been said since they left his parents.

"Yeah, I like them," Seth says, laughing. "They really loved you, though." He grabs Dean's hand, uses it to tug Dean into him, wraps his arms around Dean's waist. "Which is a really good thing, considering how much I love you." Dean goes in for a kiss, but Seth shakes his head, turns it to the side so Dean's lips land on his cheek. "Need to brush my teeth."

Dean gives him an incredulous look. "I've kissed you while you still had my come in your mouth, after you've had your tongue in my ass, in the middle of the night, and right after you've woken up in the morning. A little stale naptime breath really ain't gonna matter."

Dean has a point. He's kissed Dean at every point of the day, after he's had Dean's cock in his mouth, come still on his tongue, after he's licked and fucked Dean open with his tongue, after he's woken up in the morning after having forgotten to brush his teeth the night before, and the stale taste he has in his mouth right now really shouldn't matter, but for some reason it does.

"At least lemme use some mouthwash," Seth says, his lips against the scruff on Dean's cheek.

Dean sighs, all mock frustration. "If you must," he acquiesces, following Seth into the bathroom off the hall, the one they rarely ever use, and as soon as Seth has gargled and spit, Dean's hands are on his hips, turning him so they're facing each other, trailing his lips along Seth's jaw, brushing the tips of their noses together before he nips at Seth's bottom lip, drawing a shocked, guttural moan from deep in Seth's throat.

All he'd wanted to do when they got home was laze around on the couch, watch the rest of the football games on tv, but Seth's rapidly changing his mind, caught in the onslaught of rapidly building arousal at the feel of Dean's lips sliding against his own, Dean's hands rucking up his shirt to rest at the small of his back.

Dean kisses with a single-minded focus sometimes, like it's all he wants to do, could spend hours doing it, licking and nipping at Seth's lips until they feel bruised and swollen, until Seth's so hard he can't think straight.

"Turn around," Dean says, a whisper of words against Seth's lips, and Seth goes easily, turning in the cage of Dean's arms. "Look." Dean tilts his head so he's looking straight ahead into the mirror, and Seth almost can't believe that's him. He looks debauched already, lips red and swollen, flushed from the roots of his hair down, disappearing beneath his shirt, and his eyes are heavy-lidded, barely open at all. He looks well fucked already, and all they've done is kiss. It's just what Dean does to him.

Dean's looking at him like he's everything, like he hung the moon and the stars, the best thing he's ever seen, and Seth doesn't know what to do with that, heart jackrabbit fast in his chest. Everything feels like so much with Dean sometimes, but Seth wouldn't change it for the world, not for anything.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," Dean says, pushing Seth's shirts up again, a possessive hand splayed over his belly. "Still can't believe you're mine sometimes."

"You're not the only one," Seth says, meeting Dean's gaze in the mirror. Sometimes it's still so fucking surreal to him that Dean is his, that this is his life, not a dream. Dean's pupils are blown wide, and his breathing is a shaky, labored thing, ruffling the hairs around Seth's ear. He sets his hand on top of Dean's, pushes it further up until it disappears beneath his shirt, moving over his chest until the calloused pads of Dean's fingers brush over his nipple, his eyes fluttering shut at the sensation.

He wants to watch, wants to see how they look in the mirror, but he's already overwhelmed by Dean's touch, and it's a hard thing to keep his eyes open. He lets Dean's hand stay where it is for now, moving his own to the hem of his shirts, pulling them up and over his head, tossing them to the floor.

Dean sets his mouth to the nape of Seth's neck, sending shivers down Seth's spine, and it's like Dean's following them, mouth moving down the same path, tongue soft and wet where it traces down the line of tattoos there.

Blindly, Seth rummages through the drawers, pulling them open and slamming them shut in search of a bottle of lube he knows is stashed in one of them, there for he can't even remember how long. He finds it just as Dean sets his teeth to the edge of one of his shoulders, and he squeezes the bottle so tight the cap pops open, cold slick spilling over his knuckles.

Dean's chuckle makes Seth's pulse race, his dick throb, and he unfastens his pants, pulls down the zipper, groaning in relief. He can feel that Dean's hard, pressed as close together as they are, and he rolls his hips back, a small movement that could be accidental if not for the fact that Dean knows him, knows how goddamn eager and wanton he gets when he's turned on, and he's rewarded with Dean rocking forward against him, a soft _fuck_ panted out against Seth's neck.

There's almost no room in his briefs when Dean slides his hand inside, the other at Seth's hip, but it still feels so good, Dean's hand warm, strong, sure where it's wrapped around him, and his eyes flutter shut, a soft little _ah_ escaping him.

"C'mon," Dean says, a low rasp in Seth's ear, "wanna see you fuck my fist."

Seth tries to, rocks his hips back and forth, but Dean's grip stays where it is, wrapped tight around the middle of his dick, and Seth growls in frustration. He wriggles his hips and pushes his pants and underwear down, the denim of Dean's jeans rough against the back of his thighs, but he can move now, Dean's fist sliding up and down his dick, legs threatening to buckle.

"That's it," Dean praises, twist of his fist around the tip before he strokes back down to the base, and Seth scrabbles at the countertop, needing something to hold onto.

"Dean," Seth pants, presses his ass back against Dean's crotch, "do it, c'mon, please." Seth can see Dean nod in the mirror, tip of his tongue darting out over his lips, and he releases Seth's dick to unbutton his shirt enough that he can pull it over his head, his jeans and boxers shoved down and out of the way next.

He's so hard and hot against Seth's ass, and it steals all the breath from Seth's lungs. He's still a little open from last night, and he reaches behind himself, grips Dean's dick and slicks him up, holding him steady as he rocks back onto him, a punched out groan escaping as the thick head slides in, a slight stretch that Seth loves.

"Jesus," Dean grits out, hands shaking where they're on Seth's shoulders, "how are you always so fuckin' tight?"

Seth laughs softly, harder when Dean curses again, knows he's tightening around him without meaning to. "Fuck me, Dean," he says, places his hands back on the counter, widening his stance a little. It slots Dean in even further, perfect pressure against his prostate, and it's almost overwhelming how fucking good it feels, still getting used to the sensation of Dean being bare inside him, nothing separating them.

Dean puts a hand to Seth's hip, grip tight enough to bruise, and then he's drawing back and thrusting forward, smack of his hips against Seth's ass, over and over. "Look, babe, c'mon." It's all breathy words, spoken between every thrust.

Seth wants to look, he does, but the pleasure's too much, his head lolled forward, chin almost touching his chest, riding the slow wave to the top.

But then Dean pulls him upright, hand spread over the center of his chest, and it shocks him into opening his eyes, staring straight ahead into the mirror, and he can't believe that's him, them, Dean's skin flushed red, sweat beading along his forehead, pink lips swollen and parted, every thrust of his hips pushing Seth forward onto his toes.

He feels himself drawing nearer at the sight, so erotic and unbelievably breathtaking, and he starts up a mantra, a plea, _harder, harder, make me come, Dean, c'mon, wanna come_ , over and over, Dean's hips snapping forward and back, harder and harder until Seth's crying out, his eyes screwed shut, coming untouched all over the bathroom counter.

"Beautiful," Dean says, so soft Seth almost doesn't hear it over the blood rushing in his ear. "Fucking goddamn gorgeous." His grip on Seth's hip tightens for a moment, blunt edges of Dean's nails digging in, and Seth can feel him come, feel his dick jerking as he spills hot and wet inside Seth, a rumble of Seth's name leaving Dean's lips as he thrusts through it, until he's twitching and more than likely oversensitive.

There's a wet squelch when Dean pulls out, lewd and obscene, but it only starts a slow buzz of arousal through Seth's veins again, though he knows his dick won't be getting hard again anytime soon. Dean's come is slowly trickling out of him, and it's an odd sensation, one he still isn't quite sure he likes, but if the heated look Dean gives him is anything to go by, Dean definitely loves it.

"Mean it," Dean says, presses his lips to the hinge of Seth's jaw. "You're fuckin' gorgeous." It's not the first time Dean has said it, and it won't be the last, but it still flusters him to the point where he has to look away, the flush on his cheeks deepening.

"I know," Seth says, meeting Dean's eyes in the mirror. He winks, biting his lip to keep from smiling, but it doesn't work, a grin breaking out over his lips. He feels mellow, boneless, ready for a shower and a nap, and some of those leftovers.

Dean pinches his hip. "Smartass." He kisses the slope of Seth's shoulder, then pulls Seth's underwear and pants back up before he does the same to himself, top of his head and the slightest curve of his back the only parts visible in the mirror until he stands straight up again, belt buckle clinking as it hangs there, undone. "I'm hungry."

Seth turns, scooting to the side so he's not resting his ass on his drying come, looking up at Dean with a raised eyebrow. "We literally just ate not even that long ago."

"So?" Dean shrugs, his fingers smoothing up and down the line of hair on Seth's stomach. "Worked up an appetite again. Feed me, Seth."

Seth laughs, pushes him away so he can fasten his pants. "I don't even wanna look at food right now, Dean. You can eat, and I'll… I dunno, take Kevin for a walk or something." He moves to head out of the bathroom, but he stops and grimaces, looking down at himself before looking back up at Dean. "After I clean up."

Dean's laugh follows him out of the bathroom, down the hall and into their bedroom.

It doesn't take him long to clean up and change into a pair of sweatpants, throwing on one of Dean's sweaters, and he takes Kevin for a walk around the block, Dean setting his plate in the drying rack when they get back inside. They weren't even gone that long.

"Done already?" Seth asks, coming up behind Dean. Dean's changed from his jeans into a pair of shorts, forgoing a shirt, and Seth sets his hands on Dean's bare hips, fingers curving around the front, tucking under the waistline of them. Dean's not wearing any boxers, either.

"Mhmm." Dean nods. "S'good food."

"Yeah," Seth agrees, "my parents are pretty great cooks." He kisses the scar on Dean's back, rests his forehead at the top of Dean's spine. "Thank you for today." His voice is low, hushed, and he hopes Dean can hear how much he means it, appreciates it.

Dean turns around, hauling Seth in against him. It's such a comfort, being in Dean's arms. Seth rests his head against Dean's shoulder, breathing slow and deep. "I meant it when I said we should've done it sooner," he says, kisses the side of Seth's head. "Shouldn't have hidden it from them for so long. Was stupid."

"I also could've asked," Seth points out, knowing that the blame doesn't solely rest on Dean's shoulders. He'd assumed in the beginning that it was the best thing to do, not realizing just how badly it'd wear on him as time passed, and he'd been so deep into his lying and hiding that asking Dean if he wanted to meet his parents wasn't even an idea that he'd bothered to entertain. A mistake, he knows now, with just how much it stressed him out not being able to tell his parents, all because he assumed and didn't bother asking.

"It was good, though, meeting them," Dean says. "I mean, they'll be my in-laws eventually."

Seth freezes, feels like all the oxygen has been stolen from his lungs. In-laws, marriage. It's not anything he's ever really thought about. Yeah, he knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with Dean, but getting married hasn't ever entered his mind. Before Dean, yeah, but it had been a pipe dream, a maybe if he ever found someone worth it, but things have been so good and easy between them that what they have is enough, would always be enough even if getting married had never been mentioned. Now that Dean's brought it up, though, it's like something slots into place in Seth's mind, an image of him and Dean in matching tuxedos floating through it, silver bands glinting in the light off their ring fingers, surrounded by his parents, Roman, Roman's wife and daughter, and he wants it with a fierceness that takes him by surprise.

Seth clears his throat. "Are you asking…" he trails off, heart racing behind his ribs.

"You'll know when I'm asking," Dean says softly, smoothing his hand up and down Seth's back, slowing the racing of his heart. "Just lettin' you know that I will someday." His voice is even softer, almost hesitant, when he adds, "If you want that."

It feels like a desert has replaced Seth's mouth and throat with how dry they are, and he swallows repeatedly to wet them, pulling back so he can look at Dean's face when he says, "I do," laughing once the words are out. _I do_. Jesus.

"That's—that's good," Dean says, his shoulders relaxing from where they'd tensed up. "I know it's not somethin' we've ever talked about, but I guess I didn't realize how much I wanted it til I met you."

Seth smiles softly, cups Dean's face in his hands and kisses him. "Me, too," he says when he pulls back, even though he only realized it just now. He's a little slow on the uptake sometimes, but he gets there eventually.

Eventually.

Eventually, he will be married to Dean.

Eventually, Dean will be his husband.

As far as first Thanksgivings together go, Seth's pretty sure nothing will ever top this one.

"C'mon, I'm pretty sure A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving is on." He laces his fingers with Dean's, pulling him along into the living room.

* * *

(AN: I know I mentioned it in the notes of the first chapter, but a reminder that this is set in 2015, and follows canon throughout, just that Seth's not a part of that. We'll eventually end up in 2016. (Hopefully before 2016 is over, haha))


	11. Chapter 11

December means a lot of things: Dean's birthday, TLC, Christmas, and New Years' Eve.

This chapter was an extreme labor of love. I'd written about 6k words two weeks ago, and ended up scrapping all of it. This chapter fought me tooth and nail, but I finally managed to complete it. I hope y'all enjoy it.

* * *

The first week of December brings even colder temperatures, and the first snowfall. In theory, Seth doesn't hate the snow. It bathes everything in fluffy white, leaves the world looking quiet, serene and peaceful. In reality, it's a pain in his ass. It means waking up even earlier, trudging outside half asleep to freeze his nuts off to warm up his car, throwing on layers of clothes to clean off all the accumulated snow to drive to the gym, and that's not even getting into the shoveling of the sidewalk and driveway.

It also means Kevin being a grumpy little asshole when he comes back inside, wet and covered in snow, rolling around on the sofa until he's dry and satisfied.

The snow's all gone a few days later, however, when the temperatures rise back up into a more comfortable territory, warm enough that Seth switches back to wearing shorts and a t-shirt when he goes to take Kevin on his walks.

He's really had it with the bipolar weather of the Midwest.

The first week of December also means Dean's birthday is coming up, and coming up quick. He's going to be gone the actual day-of, which means they're going to end up celebrating it a couple days later when Dean gets home. It's not ideal, since Seth would rather be with Dean on his actual birthday, but sacrifices have to be made in their lives, even if it makes him unhappy.

When Seth had mentioned it, Dean had said he didn't want anything done for his birthday, that it's just another day to him, and Seth understands, really, with the kind of life Dean had growing up, birthdays must not have been important to him, were just days he had to survive, not stuff his face full of cake and have a party filled with friends and presents. Seth didn't really have the parties filled with friends once he was out of elementary school, but Dean didn't even have that, and he deserves it, deserves a day where it's all about him, even if he's not a little kid anymore—especially since he's not a little kid anymore.

The fact remains, Seth needs to plan something, and he needs to buy something, and he has no idea what to do for either. He has a thousand thoughts, each one stupider than the last. _No, self, what is even wrong with your brain, you are not going to tie a fucking bow around your dick, Jesus Christ._ He knows for sure, though, that it's something that Dean likes, which is more than he can say about a lot of other things he keeps thinking of.

In the end, he settles for dinner at the restaurant they had their first date at, and a new watch. He thinks about having the back of it engraved, but there's nothing that comes to mind for an inscription that seems fitting. The date of their first date? It seems like more of an anniversary thing than a birthday thing. I love you? Dean already knows that, doesn't need it engraved on a watch.

Dean seems happy enough with it, however, when Seth presents it to him over dinner, a soft, small smile playing on his lips as he removes it from the box and slips it onto his wrist. "You really didn't have to get me anything," he says, thumb brushing over the face, "but thank you, Seth."

Seth smiles, pleased and delighted. The watch is a little loose around the bones of Dean's wrist, but the silver of the stainless steel looks good against the color of Dean's skin. "I'm glad you like it," he says, feels his heart beat fast and heavy behind the cage of his ribs at the soft, reverent way Dean keeps touching the watch, the way his fingertips keep gliding over the surface of it. It makes him wonder how many birthday gifts Dean has received in his life, how many times he's actually celebrated his birthday.

He's sure Roman and his family have done what they can over the last few years, but if Dean was as insistent with Roman as he tried to be with Seth about not wanting anything done, chances are all Roman did was toss a few beers back with Dean at a bar in whatever city they happened to be in.

It's not like that's Roman's fault, or even Dean's. You get so used to getting nothing, doing nothing, that it becomes the norm, becomes the status quo, and anything outside of that feels almost wrong.

Seth pays for dinner after they finish eating, and it's a quiet, comfortable drive home.

"Wanna watch a movie?" Seth asks, after they've gotten inside. It's still early enough that he has a few hours before he needs to be in bed for work, and he has nothing else he needs to do. He'd made sure he finished all the grading before he left the school so he'd have all night to spend with Dean.

"Sure," Dean says, whistles for Kevin. "You can pick while I take the dog out."

Seth hangs his coat and removes his shoes, untucking his shirt while he goes. He gets Netflix open and on the screen, and he's scrolling through the different selections when Dean comes back in, Kevin held tightly to his chest. Seth raises an eyebrow.

"It's cold for him out there," Dean says, rubbing a hand over the dog's back before setting him down, shooing him off to his bed. "Find anything good?"

Seth gets distracted watching the way Dean moves as he takes off his jacket, the stretch of his shirt across the jut of his shoulderblades. It's a plain gray shirt—there's no reason it should look as good as it does, but Dean somehow manages to make even the simplest of things look fucking mouth-watering.

"Uh, no, not yet," Seth says, flushing a little at the knowing look Dean is giving him. Fuck, it's not his fault Dean's so goddamn attractive.

Dean hums softly. "Hey, wait, go back up," he says, nodding his head at the TV. "Bigfoot's Reflection?"

"Uh, yeah," Seth says, reading the information on it. "It's a documentary, I guess. Wanna watch it?"

Dean's eyes light up, and he throws himself down onto the sofa, tugging Seth in against his side. "Yeah, c'mon, put it on."

Seth arches an eyebrow but says nothing, settling in against Dean's side once the documentary starts playing. It's not something he's all too interested in—or believes in, for that matter—but Dean is fully immersed in it, his attention not wavering for a second until it's over, credits rolling on the screen.

He's animated in a way Seth hasn't seen much outside of his passion for wrestling, eyes bright and filled with excitement as he goes on and on about how he'd love to take a weekend and go hiking through the forest in search of Bigfoot, how when he finally hangs up his boots, he'd like to really take the time to devote to Bigfoot hunting, "I mean, if he's not already found by then."

That's something Seth can get behind. Not the whole Bigfoot hunting, no, but the roughing it in nature, away from the hustle and bustle of city life, from all the distractions and materialistic things. It'd be peaceful, calming. "Maybe when it's not so damn cold we can take a couple days and head over to, I dunno, Washington or something?" he suggests, laying himself out over Dean's thighs. "Could go camping."

"You don't have to," Dean says, though he looks positively delighted.

"No, I know," Seth says, fighting down a grin at the look of pure excitement on Dean's face. "It'd be cool, though. A couple days away from everything, just you and me? Sounds awesome to me, honestly."

Dean sets a hand on Seth's hip, and Seth covers his own with it instantly. It holds him steady, keeps him in place when Dean bends and twists to kiss him, a soft press of lips that has Seth humming, his nerves singing.

"You're fuckin' perfect," Dean says once he's pulled back, eyes soft and hooded.

Seth shakes his head, feels his skin heat up. Dean always makes him feel so much, and he doesn't know if he'll ever get used to it, doesn't think he'll ever _want_ to be used to it. He rolls over and onto his feet, pulls Dean up with him, grabbing the remote and shutting off the TV with his free hand before he tosses it back down onto the coffee table. "C'mon," he says, hushed and low. He pulls Dean along to the bedroom, turning the lights off as he goes.

Dean thinks Seth's perfect, but he's wrong. _They_ are perfect together, and Seth's going to spend the rest of his life showing Dean that.

* * *

Seth doesn't really like to take days off unless he can't help it and absolutely has to, but he wasn't able to make it to Survivor Series because he had to work the following day—he hated not being able to be there for Dean after his loss to Roman, especially when Dean had to shelve his feelings to be there for Roman after Sheamus and Triple H—and he swore the next pay-per-view Dean had a shot at winning a title, he'd be there.

Dean has a shot at Kevin Owens and the Intercontinental Championship at TLC, and Seth doesn't even think twice about using a personal day so he has Monday off.

He flies into Boston early Sunday morning, early enough that Dean still looks half asleep when he picks him up from the airport. "Sorry," he says, tossing his bag into the backseat before climbing into the front passenger seat, buckling his seatbelt. "I could've gotten my own rental for the day."

Dean turns to face him, shaking his head. "No, it's okay," he says, offering a small, tired smile. "Couldn't really sleep, anyway."

"Nerves?" Seth asks, settling in against the door, attention focused on Dean, his hands on the steering wheel, smoothly merging into traffic.

Dean shrugs, squinting out at the road ahead. "Little bit, maybe."

"You're gonna kill it," Seth says, certain as ever. He will always believe in Dean, always have a never-ending support for Dean's abilities. "You've beaten him before, and I know you can do it again."

Dean reaches for his hand, and Seth gives it to him easily, twines their fingers together and rests their clasped hands on the armrest between them.

Dean's quiet throughout the day, intent and focused, and Seth leaves him to it, provides whatever calming comfort he can through proximity. The intensity and focus slowly sharpens, gives way to an endless amount of energy, Dean buzzing and bouncing, unable to sit still the later it gets.

"Ready to head to the arena?" Seth asks, shortly after lunch.

Dean nods, shoulders his bag. "Yeah, let's go."

Seth stays backstage until Dean's match is about to start, and quickly makes his way out to his seat after kissing Dean once, twice, _win or lose tonight, I'm still gonna be super fuckin' proud of you_.

Kevin Owens comes out with a microphone, and his monologue makes Seth roll his eyes. Owens is good in the ring, yeah, but Seth would just rather not hear him talk.

Dean comes strolling and strutting down the ramp a moment later, and Seth is filled with so much fucking pride watching his boy, hearing the way the crowd goes fucking nuts for him.

The bell rings, and Seth's heart starts racing. It's good, the first few opening minutes. Dean's in control, working Owens over, until Owens hits him with a clothesline that takes Dean down. Dean retaliates with a clotheslines of his own a minute later, getting some good shots in as well.

Seth barely resists pulling his hair in frustration when Owens counters Dean's attempt at a running bulldog, getting him into a headlock that takes Dean a minute to fight his way out of, getting in a headbutt before he hits Owens with a flurry of rights and lefts.

Owens gets him down, though, two pin attempts that Dean manages to kick out of, and Seth's filled with so much nervousness, he's not sure how he's managing not to throw up.

He curses under his breath when Owens stands there, his foot on Dean's back, proclaiming that "that's why I'm the champ," which, ugh, Seth rolls his eyes. _Think what you want, Owens. You ain't gonna be champ for long_.

There's a moment there where Seth's sure Dean's lost, the referee's count edging perilously close to ten, but he manages to roll into the ring in the nick of time, saving the match from ending in a countout.

It's a back and forth melee that sets Seth's nerves even more on edge, and he has to keep reminding himself to breathe, and then he has to will down the half-chub that decides to make an appearance when Dean fucking growls and rips off his shirt.

Owens sets Dean up for the pop-up powerbomb, and Seth feels his frustration mounting, but then Dean's countering, turning it into a pin, and the ref's counting, one, two, three, and Seth can't fucking breathe for a minute, Dean's music reverberating through his bones, and then he's pumping his fist into the air, cheering along with the rest of the crowd.

Dean is the Intercontinental Champion.

And he comes launching himself into the crowd where Seth's sitting, and all Seth can do is laugh, his hands on Dean's sweat-slick skin—along with the people seated around him—elated and delighted, and so fucking proud.

He can't stop grinning, watching Dean strut around, from the announce table back to the middle of the ring, holding the title high.

"You did it," Seth says, feels breathless and ridiculous when he gets back to Dean's locker room, cheeks sore and aching from the force of his smile.

"I fuckin' did it," Dean says, eyes bright, dimples deep pockets in his cheeks.

Seth launches himself at Dean, his arms around Dean's neck, the title squished between them. He doesn't care that Dean is still covered in sweat, that he smells less than stellar right now, because Dean fucking won. He's a champion, has a title belt to prove what Seth's known all along: that Dean is one of the fucking best.

He kisses Dean, can't not, presses his smile right against Dean's, feels the soft puff of laughter from Dean against his lips. "Knew you could do it," he says, rests his forehead against Dean's. "Didn't I fuckin' tell you? Goddamn, I am so proud of you."

Dean laughs, loud, boisterous, an arm around Seth's waist. "I love you," he says, laughs and shakes his head. "God, I love you."

They separate at the sound of a throat being cleared, and they both turn to the doorway where Roman stands, back resting against the closed door, grinning. "Dean Ambrose, Intercontinental Champion," he says, laughs. "Congrats, uce. Knew you could do it."

Dean pulls Roman into a hug, knocks their foreheads together. "Your turn, man. Kick Sheamus's ass."

"I'm gonna," Roman says, claps a hand on Dean's shoulder. "Ain't even gonna be able to walk when I'm done with him."

Good, Seth thinks. Deserves it after everything the Authority and Sheamus have pulled. "Good luck," he says, bumps his fist against Roman's. "Show 'em whose the man."

Roman nods, leaves shortly after to finish preparing for his match.

"You gonna shower?" Seth asks, clearing his head of all thoughts of Roman and Sheamus and the Authority. There's so much about it that makes him angry for Roman, and he hopes fervently that Roman wins and takes Sheamus apart in the process.

"Yeah," Dean says, nodding. "Goin' out to celebrate once Roman wins his title back."

Seth loves the belief and faith Dean has in Roman. They're family, brothers, and it's more apparent now than ever.

Dean disappears with a towel, and Seth sits with the title across his lap, running his fingers over it. He'll never know the feeling of having a championship, but if it's anything like how he feels for Dean having it, he thinks he'd probably combust with all the pride and excitement and elation.

Dean comes out with the towel around his waist, beads of water dripping down his chest. "S'as much yours as it is mine," he says, gesturing with a nod towards the title.

Seth shakes his head. It's not, at all. He didn't do anything to earn it. He isn't there in the ring, fighting day in and day out, putting his life and body on the line. "It's not, but I appreciate the sentiment," he says, offering a slight smile.

Dean stands in front of him, an arm wrapped around his waist. "Wouldn't have won it if it wasn't for you," he says, tips Seth chin up with his thumb and forefinger.

"You would've," Seth protests, knows deep in his bones that Dean is skilled enough, powerful enough, to have won it, with or without him.

"Okay, maybe I would have," Dean concedes, "but you make me want it more. You make me better. Just, y'know, havin' someone who believes in me as much as you do, who's as proud of me as you are," he shrugs, takes a breath, "feels like I wouldn't have been able to do it without you."

Seth swallows roughly, turns his face into Dean's hand. "I love you," he says, feels overwhelmed with emotion, all the insane, intense things he feels for Dean.

"Love you," Dean says, caresses the curve of Seth's cheek with his thumb. "Imma get dressed, then we'll catch Rome's match."

Seth turns the volume up on the TV in the locker room while Dean gets dressed, title laid across his lap, and by the time Dean sits down next to him, Roman's match is just getting started.

It's brutal, as Seth expected, and it's a push and pull that doesn't stop, intense and well-fought. Seth's body hurts just watching Roman, and he can't hold back the _oh, shit_ that slips out when Roman's on top of the ladder and Sheamus pushes it over, Roman's leg bouncing off the bottom rope. Seth's sure Roman's done for, that there's no way he's getting up from that, but he does, scaling the ladder like it's nothing, like his body hasn't been put through the ringer already, nailing Sheamus with a Superman Punch that knocks him off the ladder and puts him through a table.

"C'mon, Rome, come on," Dean's saying, tips of his fingers digging into his kneecaps. Seth covers one of Dean's hands with his own, squeezing. He's about as on edge as Dean is.

Roman's climbing the ladder, and Sheamus isn't moving. The title is his.

Until Del Rio and Rusev interfere, pulling Roman down off the ladder. Rusev gets him isolated outside the ring, Del Rio rousing Sheamus enough that he can climb to his feet, helping him to the ladder before he's back to attacking Roman, giving Sheamus enough time to begin his climb to the top.

"Motherfucking shit," Seth curses, feeling the last of his hope fading. It's too much. Roman's distracted, Del Rio and Rusev keeping him occupied while Sheamus climbs, but Roman, the beast that he is, somehow gets them off and down, making it back into the ring in time to stop Sheamus, pulling him down off the ladder, but Sheamus is quicker, nails him with a Brogue Kick as soon as his feet hit the mat, and Roman's down, rolling to the floor outside the ring, and he's too late climbing back in, Sheamus pulling the title down, the referee ringing the bell.

Seth feels sick. Roman was screwed out of his title again.

"This is fuckin' bullshit," Dean says, rising to his feet and pacing the length of the room. "Should've been out there to help him, even things up."

"No, c'mon," Seth says, shaking his head. "You know that's not what Roman wanted. He wanted to win it on his own, without anyone's help. Bullshit that Sheamus can't win it fair and fuckin' square."

"Because he can't," Dean says, a growl to his words. "One on one, no interference, no outside help, Roman would fuckin' demolish him and his bitch ass knows it."

Looks like Roman's going to demolish him, anyway. Seth points back to the TV screen, where Roman's spearing the shit out of Rusev and Del Rio, who are holding Sheamus up between them.

"Get 'em, Rome," Dean says with a vicious grin, a look of satisfaction settling on his face as Roman takes a chair to Sheamus, over and over until Triple H, Stephanie, and a slew of referees spill out of the back.

Roman's a caged animal in the ring, prowling around, daring them to step inside, between him and Sheamus. Triple H is loosening his tie on the ring apron, and doesn't he know that's a bad idea? Does he not see the way Roman is about to completely lose his shit?

Seth sees it the second before it happens, the slow creeping grin that manifests everywhere on Roman's face but his lips, and the Superman Punch he hits Triple H with is a thing of fucking beauty, and Dean's sharp bark of laughter says he feels the same.

There's so much pent up aggression and anger making its way out of Roman right now, and everything Triple H is getting is what he deserves. The Authority has done nothing but make his life hell, and Roman's finally getting some well-deserved payback. Triple H should've known not to step in the ring, but he did, and Roman laying into him with the chair is less than what Seth thought he'd do.

"He's going to murder Triple H, holy shit," Dean says, but he doesn't sound sorry about that at all.

Referees are helping Triple H stand, and Roman's halfway up the ramp before he turns around, runs full tilt into a spear that lays Triple H out again. That might've been overkill, Seth thinks, stomach turning uneasily at how he'd excused Roman's actions from only a few moments ago. There's no excusing them, now. Roman went too far.

Dean turns the TV off and sits back down, shaking his head. "Jesus," he says, blowing out a breath. "Think that was a little much?"

Seth nods. "Yeah, just a little."

Roman spills into the locker room a few minutes later, still looking like he's ready to break faces, and it's a little unsettling, if Seth's being honest. He knows Roman wouldn't hurt him, or Dean for that matter, but seeing all that anger and aggression is kind of terrifying.

Dean rises to his feet and steps in front of him, and it relaxes Seth some. Roman's like a bull in a china shop, breathing hard and heavy as he stomps back and forth across the length of the locker room, hands clenched into fists as he shakes his head, jaw clenched so hard it's giving Seth a headache.

"You good?" Dean asks, shoulders moving as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Not even close," Roman replies instantly, menacing, threatening, and Seth really does not like this side of Roman. At all.

"Too bad," Dean says, steps closer to Roman. "Fuck was that out there?"

"Takin' care of business," Roman says. He finally stops long enough to look at Dean, copies his stance with his arms folded over his chest. "Tired of 'em thinkin' they can fuck with me and get away with it. I ain't gonna deal with that shit no more."

"That was too much, Roman," Dean says, shakes his head. "That spear wasn't needed."

"The hell if it wasn't," Roman replies, chest heaving as his jaw clenches again. Seth wants to tell Dean to stop, to give Roman time to cool off, because it seems as though all Dean is doing is riling him up again.

"He's got kids, Roman," Dean says, voice rising. "You ain't gotta like him, and you can beat up on him all you want, but to take it that far? You want JoJo thinkin' her daddy is a monster?"

Roman deflates, his fire snuffed out in an instant. Seth blinks, surprised. He shouldn't be, when he thinks about it. If there's anyone who knows how to get to Roman, to get him to calm down, it's Dean.

"Shower, go back to the hotel, call your wife and kid, and sleep," Dean instructs, shaking his head when Roman opens his mouth to talk.

"Sorry," Roman says anyway, small and soft, shaking his head like he can't believe himself. "I'll just—I'll see you in the morning, man."

"Rome?" Dean calls out, big strides that eat up the distance between them. He pulls Roman into a hug, one that Roman relaxes into easily, his palm spread across the expanse of Dean's back. "Get some rest, uce."

Roman offers Seth a small smile before he leaves, the click of the door as loud as a gunshot.

Dean scrubs a hand through his hair, turns to face Seth, the smile on his face looking more like a grimace.

"That happen often?" Seth asks, trying not to be consumed by the worry he feels for Roman.

"No," Dean says, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "Person can only take so much, y'know? Think it finally got to that breaking point for him, after all the shit they've been pullin' lately. He'll be kickin' himself tomorrow over it. S'why I told him to go call his wife and kid. They mellow him out real good."

That puts Seth's mind at ease, enough for him to put his focus back on Dean. "Ready to get out of here, Champ?" He tosses the Intercontinental title to Dean before he rises to his feet, grinning at the instantaneous smile that comes over Dean's face.

"Think I could fuck you while wearing it?" Dean asks, an eyebrow raised as he settles it over his shoulder.

Seth chokes on his spit. "Is that seriously a thing? I didn't think that was an actual thing."

Not that he'd be adverse to it, really. Just—he didn't think that was something that was actually done.

"Oh, yeah," Dean says with a laugh. "It's a thing. Could be your thing."

"You're such a freak," Seth says, shaking his head as he makes his way over to Dean. "Good thing I like that." He raises both his eyebrows, opening the door to the locker room.

The sooner they get to the hotel, the better.

* * *

On the 23rd, Seth and Dean fly out to New York City. Seth's off until the 4th of January for the holidays, and Dean has three days off before the show at Madison Square Garden the day after Christmas.

They do all the touristy things Seth has always wanted to do, especially seeing the insane Rockefeller tree that's even more breathtaking live and in person than it is in any photo Seth has seen. They really just don't do it justice.

Ice-skating seems like a good idea, until Seth's pretty sure his ass is going to be permanently black and blue. Dean, of course, glides around on the ice like it's nothing, failing to stifle his laughter every time Seth falls.

"Alright," Seth says, after he's fallen for what feels like the millionth time. "Think I'm done here."

Dean nods, lips pressed tightly together, but Seth can see his dimples peeking out, the failed attempt at hiding his humor. "C'mon," he says, holding out his hand. "We'll go grab some hot cocoa, and save your ass any more damage. I'm pretty attached to it and all."

They bundle up in coats and scarves, gloves and hats, and stroll through Central Park in the falling snow, their arms linked together at the elbow. Dean even allows Seth to take a selfie of them, Dean's arms wrapped around Seth from behind, Dean's lips pressed to Seth's cheek, Seth grinning so wide his eyes are all squinted. He looks ridiculous, but it's his favorite picture, hands down. He never really believed the whole _when you're in love with someone, it shows_ thing, but looking at the photo on his phone, he swears he and Dean are practically radiating with it.

Presents aren't being done until after the new year, until they're back at home in Iowa.

It's different, not being home with his parents for Christmas, and he misses them more than he thought he would, especially since he's with Dean, but he guesses he's still a little boy at heart sometimes, when it comes to Christmas and being with his parents.

Seth enjoys being back on the road with Dean during his winter vacation. Their schedules have been so different the last few months, Seth loves that they can actually be together now without him having to worry about what he needs to get done for his classes the next day.

After Christmas, Dean works up until the 30th of December, and they take a red-eye flight to Vegas. They sleep in late, in preparation for the night's festivities, and when Seth wakes up around noon, Dean's already up, a feast of food waiting on the kitchen counter.

Seth stumbles blearily to the coffee pot, filling a cup and inhaling the rich aroma before he sips at it, feeling more awake once the caffeine enters his bloodstream. "Didn't think there was any groceries," he says, eyeing the spread of food in front of him.

"Just went and bought what we'd need for today," Dean explains, hunched over his own plate of food.

There are pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, along with toast, and an assortment of fruit.

"What'd you get for dinner?" Seth asks, already digging into the food. He's hungry, unbelievably so, feels like he hasn't eaten in a month. Flying always seems to make him hungry.

"Goin' out for dinner," Dean says, "so I didn't get anything."

They discuss the rest of the plans for the evening while they finish eating, and they laze around after, bellies pleasantly full while they watch TV.

Seth didn't bring much in the way of dressier clothes, but Dean seems to appreciate the black skinny jeans, the untucked white button down. Dean's dressed similarly, in a pair of dark blue jeans, a black button down, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off the muscles of his forearms, the watch Seth bought him that he's always wearing except for when he's at work, in character.

Dinner is a quiet affair, a perfectly cooked steak, a side of sauteed asparagus, and a baked potato, and the night seems to speed up after, moving along the Strip with Dean at his side, surrounded by a sea of people, lights everywhere.

Seth's lost count of how many drinks he's had, and he's not entirely sure how late it is. He's not much of a drinker, never has been, and alcohol goes to his head all too quickly. All he can focus on is the heat simmering beneath his skin, how Dean looks next to him, how badly he wants to take Dean home.

It's not his fault. Dean's fucking gorgeous, skin flushed from the drinks he's had, the cool night air, and his eyes reflect the lights surrounding them.

Seth nuzzles in close, his lips against Dean's ear. "Kiss me," he says, a hoarse whisper Dean wouldn't have been able to hear were it not for their close proximity.

Dean laughs, a pleased, delighted sound, his hands curving around Seth's jaw, laying a loud, smacking kiss on Seth's lips. It makes Seth laugh despite himself, and he can't help but shake his head. It's not the kind of kiss he wanted, but he's not too bummed about it.

There's a surge of noise around them, and it pulls Seth's attention away from Dean, tuning into their surroundings.

The countdown has started.

He waits until it hits five, and then he wraps his arms around Dean's neck, steps in close and whispers, "three, two," along with the crowd, and when it's down to one, when the crack of fireworks going off signals the start of the new year, Seth presses his lips to Dean's, feels a surge of hunger and want rip through him at the way Dean slots their lips together, his tongue an insistent press until Seth opens up to him.

It's over all too soon, Dean pulling back with a quick peck that leaves Seth wanting even more. He turns in Dean's arms, though, his back to Dean's chest, Dean's arms around his waist, watching the last of the fireworks explode over the city, the warmth of Dean's breath against the sensitive skin of his neck raising goosebumps over his skin.

"Ready to head home?" Dean asks, after the last firework has gone off, the sea of people around them moving once again.

"Beyond ready," Seth replies, an itch under his skin that only Dean can sate.

Dean takes his hand, leading him through the throng of people. They're parked quite a ways away, but the cool night air helps Seth sober up a little, and he enjoys the walk, taking in the lights of all the places they pass, the sounds of people laughing and enjoying their night.

"Sure you're good to drive?" Seth asks, once they get to Dean's truck.

Dean nods, pulling the keys out of his pocket to unlock the doors. "Yeah," he says, a hand on the small of Seth's back as he leads him to the passenger side. "I didn't drink that much, and definitely not as much as you."

Seth sticks his tongue out before he opens the door and climbs inside.

Traffic is a pain in the ass, and it takes forever to get home, long enough that Seth feels like he's going to come apart at the seams once they get through the door, pushing Dean up against it before he can even close it and turn on the lights.

Alcohol loosens him up like nothing else, and it makes him horny, almost unbearably so, and he wants, _needs_ , to feel Dean inside him, all over him, the fire beneath his skin put out by the touch of Dean's hands.

"C'mon," Seth says against Dean's lips, hands feeling too big and clumsy as he tries to undo the buttons on Dean's shirt, his jacket still on.

"Hey, slow down," Dean says softly, hands coming up to cover Seth's. "Got all night, babe."

Seth knows, but he wants _now_ , wants to get his hands and lips all over every inch of Dean's skin that he can, wants to feel Dean touching him, and he doesn't have the patience to take his time.

Dean's hands slide from his hips around his back, down past his ass, and he's lifted suddenly, a surprised gasp leaving his lips as he quickly wraps his arms around Dean's neck, holding on as Dean carries him through the house, setting him down on the sofa in the living room.

It's dark, barely any light spilling in through the windows, and it's hard for Seth to make out Dean's movements, but it's only a moment later that he hears a strike of a match, the logs in the fireplace crackling to life, casting the room in a soft orange glow.

Dean's in front of him now, shoulders rolling back as he removes his jacket, tossing it to the sofa before he undoes the buttons of his shirt, kicking his boots off and out of the way. It makes Seth's mouth go dry, makes his blood sing with arousal, and he scrambles up and off the sofa, removing his own jacket, his shoes, hands fumbling with the buttons on his shirt before Dean's hands are there, gently swatting them out of the way as he takes over.

Seth's eyes go heavy-lidded as Dean's hands smooth up the expanse of his abdomen, his chest, cupping the balls of his shoulders before he pushes Seth's shirt off, and he all but melts against Dean's front as Dean cups his face in his hands, sliding their lips together in a kiss that steals all the breath from Seth's lungs.

His hands go to Dean's hips to steady himself, the skin beneath his hands smooth and warm. He bites at Dean's bottom lip, soothes it with his tongue, relishing in the groan Dean lets out that makes his dick throb insistently where it's trapped in the confines of his pants.

Dean's belt buckle is a big, clunky thing, and Seth can't get it undone with all his focus on the way Dean's tongue is curling around his own. He pulls back for a moment, resting his forehead against Dean's, trying to get his breathing under control as he undoes the buckle, the button on Dean's jeans, pulling the zipper down, too.

"I wanna suck you," Seth says, low and raspy. Dean's hot and hard when Seth cups him through his underwear, and it makes Seth's mouth water.

Dean groans. "Yeah, yes." He falls back onto the sofa, skin glowing from the fire, and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of his jeans, underwear, pushing them down his long legs, Seth pulling them off the rest of the way, ridding him of his socks while he's at it.

He falls to his knees between Dean's spread legs, his hands curved around the insides of Dean's thighs. They're thick with muscle, the hair there rasping against his palms, and he enjoys the way the muscles tighten as he moves one hand up, curling around the base of Dean's dick.

For all that Seth was feeling impatient only a few moments ago, he finds he wants to take his time now, on his knees between Dean's legs, feeling the way Dean's dick jerks in his grip. He licks his lips, moving in closer before he drops a kiss to the head of Dean's cock, following it with a swipe of his tongue around the crown.

"Jesus," Dean groans, already bucking up against Seth's mouth.

Seth grins, wide and filthy, lifts his eyes to look up at Dean. He looks wrecked already, hair disheveled, lips parted and kiss swollen. It renews the hunger and ferocity in Seth, has him parting his lips and swallowing Dean down, tongue laving along the thick vein on the underside.

One of Dean's hands tangles in his hair, pulling it free from the loose ponytail Seth had it tied back in, the other curving around Seth's jawline, thumb pushing in against his cheek. It's more sensation for Seth, mouth already stretched pleasantly around Dean, and he feels even fuller now, soft flesh of the inside of his cheek rubbing against Dean's dick, limiting the space in his mouth even further.

He groans, eyes closed, savoring the taste and feel and weight of Dean on his tongue, in his mouth, losing himself in the slick slide of his lips up and down Dean's dick, a hand on Dean's balls, rolling and squeezing.

"Fuck, babe, so good," Dean says, low and guttural, hand tightening in Seth's hair as his hips roll, a gentle thrust up into Seth's mouth. Seth relaxes his throat and jaw, nods his head as best as he can, and Dean groans, curses, hips rocking up into Seth's mouth, pushing past the soft give of his throat, until Seth's nose is pressed flush to his pubic bone, over and over until Seth's throat is burning pleasantly, saliva spilling from the corners of his mouth.

Dean lets Seth go, and Seth pulls off with a sharp gasp, a cough. His dick feels harder than it's ever been. He trips to his feet, unbuttoning and unzipping his pants, cursing how tight they are as he shoves them down his legs, his underwear following immediately after.

Dean puts his hands on Seth's hips, pulling him forward until Seth collapses in his lap, Dean's dick sliding up against his own. Dean's dick is still wet with Seth's saliva, and they move together easily, Seth rutting up against Dean, Dean's hands on his hips guiding each roll of his hips.

"Fuck me, Dean," Seth says against Dean's lips. He doesn't know how much longer he can go without feeling Dean inside him, and he needs to come, now.

The logs in the fireplace crackle behind him. Dean's hands flutter at his hips, move down to his ass, grip firm as he squeezes, baring Seth's hole to the air. The dry pad of a fingertip teases around the rim, makes Seth shudder, gasp, a hand tight on Dean's shoulder.

"Where's the lube?" Dean asks, and how he expects Seth to focus, he doesn't know, what with how Dean's finger keeps circling his asshole, shocks of pleasure spreading through his body, pebbling his nipples, making his cock jerk. "Lube, Seth?"

"Don't—ah, shit, I dunno," Seth says, strained and choked off. "One of the bags, I think." He's pretty sure it's in one of them, though which one, he doesn't know. Everything just kind of gets thrown together after a few days together on the road.

Dean sighs. "Up, c'mon." He pats Seth's ass, puts both his hands back on Seth's hips and guides him off to the space beside them on the sofa, making Seth groan and pout. He wants more of Dean, not less.

Seth watches as Dean moves across the room. The glow of the fire highlights all the curves and dips of Dean's body, from the slope of his shoulders to the wide expanse of his back, from the dip of his spine to the curve of his ass, down the well-muscled flesh of his thighs, his calves, and Seth is so fucking attracted to him, he almost can't breathe with it.

Dean comes back with the lube in his hand. He sits down on the sofa again, pulling Seth back down onto his lap. Seth goes easily, stays up on his knees, his hands on Dean's shoulders. "C'mon, c'mon," he says, squeezing Dean's shoulder, urgent and impatient as the heat of arousal swims through his veins.

"Patience," Dean says, but he slicks up his fingers, anyway, trailing them down the cleft of Seth's ass, further until he gets to the tight space of his asshole, circling slick fingers around and around to make him wet.

"Gimme, c'mon," Seth urges, tries to rock down onto Dean's fingers, but Dean pulls them away, trails them back up until Seth whines, bats at his shoulder. They're back, then, the tip of one pushing in, and Seth's eyes roll back in his head. Every nerve feels infinitely more sensitive, and Dean knows how and where to touch to make Seth feel the most.

Soft, damp kisses are pressed all over his abdomen, Dean's mouth moving up higher to his chest, teeth tugging at a nipple as he slides his finger the rest of the way inside Seth. Seth gasps, moans, thighs trembling where they're spread open around Dean's legs.

One finger becomes two, then three. Seth feels like a bow strung tight, and one more move will make him snap. "M'ready, c'mon," he tells Dean, grips the base of his dick tight to stave off his orgasm.

The lube makes a wet squelching sound as Dean squeezes it into his hand, but it sends a shiver of anticipation down Seth's spine. He braces himself for the initial stretch of Dean's cock, but it doesn't come.

Dean's arms are folded behind his head, and he's smirking, an eyebrow raised. "Ride me, Seth," he says, low and rough, gritty and full of gravel.

Seth narrows his eyes, but he reaches behind himself, grips Dean's dick and rocks down onto him, doesn't stop until his ass is flush to Dean's hips. He takes a moment to adjust to the way Dean stretches him, fills him, and that's it. He starts moving with purpose immediately, a smooth rock and roll of his hips that has Dean's cock sliding right up against his prostate, stars exploding behind his eyes.

"God, y'feel so fuckin' good," Seth pants, blurt of precome sliding down the tip of his cock. His thighs are burning pleasantly, and there's sweat coating his skin from head to toe, but he loves this, wouldn't want to be anywhere other than where he is now.

"Mmm," Dean hums, puts one hand on Seth's hip, thumb smoothing over the jut of bone. "Fuckin' gorgeous like this, Seth, ridin' my cock so good."

Seth groans, squeezes tight around Dean's cock, choking on a moan when Dean starts thrusting up into him, rolling his hips up every time Seth rocks down, a push and pull, a give and take, they've mastered perfectly. He anchors his hands on Dean's shoulders, locks his eyes on Dean's, speeding up the rock and roll of his hips despite the tremor in his thighs, the way it feels like he's about to collapse forward against Dean.

Dean's lips are parted, pupils blown wide, barely a thin sliver of blue visible. Seth reaches for Dean's other hand, takes it and puts it on his dick. He doesn't have to say anything. Dean starts jerking him off immediately, quick pulls where he thumbs over the head, Seth's breathing gone shaky and shallow.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, voice barely louder than a whisper, "that's it, babe, make me come."

Groaning, Dean speeds up, tightens his grip. "C'mon, Seth," he coaxes, traces the crown of Seth's dick with his thumb. "Lemme see you come, c'mon, wanna see you."

Seth's hips stutter, nails digging into Dean's shoulder as his balls pull up tight, orgasm rocking through him. He spills over Dean's fist, his stomach, gasping and moaning as his orgasm spreads from his dick and balls down to his toes, up to the tips of his fingers, the roots of his hair,the sound of blood rushing loud in his ears.

"There you go, baby," Dean says, one hand in the middle of Seth's back. His hips aren't moving anymore, and for a minute, Seth thinks Dean has come already, but when he's back to full awareness, Dean tips them over, lays Seth flat on his back on the sofa, snapping his hips against Seth's ass until he tenses, a guttural groan falling from his lips while he shoots hot and wet into Seth's ass.

Seth pulls Dean down, his hands cupping Dean's jaw, and he smears their lips together, licks into the warmth of Dean's mouth, a leg draped over Dean's hip. "I love you," he says, once they've parted, fingers toying with the soft curls at the nape of Dean's neck.

Dean lays his head against Seth's shoulder. "I love you," he says, low and breathy.

Seth moves his hands down the dip of Dean's spine, following it down as far as his hands will reach before he trails them back up, enjoying the way it makes Dean shiver against him. He's sleepy now, could happily stay here for the rest of the night, camped out in front of the fireplace with nothing but Dean's body covering him, but they need to separate, clean up, and Seth needs a bottle of water to stave off any chance of a hangover in the morning.

He stays where he is, though, for a minute longer, basking in the afterglow with the crackle and glow of the fireplace in the background.

They'll get up and move eventually.

"Happy New Year," Seth says, drops a kiss to the top of Dean's head. He can't wait to see what the coming year has in store for them, if it's going to be anything like the past year.

He has a good feeling it's going to be even better.

"Happy New Year," Dean says, settling further into Seth.

They'll move.

Eventually.

* * *

( **A/N** : There are two chapters left of this fic, one of which will be an epilogue. Things are about to get really interesting, and I hope y'all are willing to ride out the rest of this fic with me.)


	12. Chapter 12

I'd never intended to take this long getting this chapter out, but the holidays happened, then life happened, and I hardly had time to write. Also, I kind of don't want this fic to be over yet, but this is ultimately the final chapter, epilogue notwithstanding.

Anyway. I hope y'all enjoy this chapter.

* * *

Going back to work after a two week vacation is the last thing Seth wants to do. He has to drag himself out of bed when his alarm goes off, and he's half-asleep as he showers, gets dressed, sets the coffee to brew. Kevin is still with his parents. His flight got in late the night before, and he didn't want to wake his sleeping parents to pick him up.

The first semester of the school year is nearing its end, and that means crunch time for Seth now, making sure all of his classes are well prepared for their final exams. It means getting to school earlier and leaving later, his lunch hour free for any students who may need any additional help.

He's in the middle of reviewing the material he taught the first month when the classroom phone rings, sudden and shrill, making Seth and a few of his students startle. It rings again before Seth excuses himself, taking the phone out into the hall for some privacy.

"Rollins," he says, holding the phone between his ear and shoulder as he twines the cord around his finger.

"Mr. Rollins," the principal says, and Seth jerks upright, heartbeat picking up speed. "If you have a minute, there are some things I need to discuss with you."

Seth swallows roughly, thoughts flying through his head, trying to figure out if there's anything he's done wrong, any rules or codes of conduct he's violated. "I have my lunch hour next," he says, trying to keep his voice as calm as he can, "I can meet you down in your office?"

"Thank you, Seth," the principal says, nothing in her voice to give away how she's feeling. She hangs up after, and Seth's nerves are so frazzled he can't concentrate, can't focus on what he's supposed to be teaching, and he ends up handing out a review packet earlier than he had planned, just to give the class something to do for the remainder of the period.

When the clock ticks over, signaling the end of the period, Seth dismisses the class, standing and straightening his tie, pulling his suit jacket on and smoothing down the sleeves. He feels like he's walking the path to his execution, and his stomach is roiling, threatening to escape through his mouth.

The front office is mostly empty. The receptionist is behind her desk, tapping away at the keyboard in front of her, and there are a couple other teachers milling about, at their mailboxes, in front of the copier, and Seth bypasses them all without saying a word, taking in a deep, fortifying breath before he knocks on the door to the principal's office.

"Come in."

Seth swallows repeatedly to moisturize his dry throat, pushing down on the door handle to open it. The principal greets him with a polite smile, one that Seth tries to return as he takes a seat in front of her desk, feeling like a teenager about to get in a whole world of trouble, something that never even happened when he was in high school.

"Thank you for agreeing to meet so soon," she says, folds her hands on top of her desk.

"Of course," Seth says, like he'd have been an idiot to say no, that he couldn't find the time, maybe another day. "I'm not entirely sure why I'm here, though, to be honest."

The principal unfolds her hands, tapping at the keys on her laptop before she swivels it around, says, "This has been brought to our attention, and I just wanted to touch base with you, make sure it's not going to interfere with your teaching."

Seth feels like all the air has been sucked out of the room, heart beating fast and hard, vision going dim and hazy as he forces himself to breathe. He didn't—that can't. He shakes his head, looks at the screen again, but it's the same image, the same headline, and there's bile burning the back of his throat, threatening to make an appearance.

There on the screen is a photo of Seth, of Dean, fireworks frozen in the background. It's from New Years' Eve, a series of well-lit high quality pictures taken of them embracing, kissing, and it makes Seth feel sick, violated, and the headline makes it worse: _Dean Ambrose: Gay New Year?_ The subheader beneath it reads _Who is this wrestling hunk's mysterious boytoy?_

"I uh—I don't. I gotta go," he says quickly, stumbling out of the chair, out of the room, running down the halls to get back to his classroom, to his phone.

He locks the classroom door behind him, ripping the drawer out of the desk to get to his phone, heart racing. There are a slew of missed calls from Dean, a handful of texts Seth doesn't want to read right now, and he collapses into his desk chair as he holds his phone up to his ear, listening to it trill before it's answered, Dean's voice a low rasp as he says, "I'm so fuckin' sorry, Seth."

Seth swallows hard, feels tears prick at his eyes. There's no reason for Dean to be apologizing. This isn't Dean's fault. "Are you okay?" he asks, reminds himself to breathe, slow and even as he can.

Dean laughs, an ugly, forced sound. "Not really," he says. He sounds pissed, frustrated, upset. "They pulled me from the show tonight, so."

Seth squeezes his eyes shut. He didn't want this to happen, not this way, but that's their stupidity for being as reckless, as careless as they were, strutting around on the fucking Strip in Las Vegas like no one knows Dean is supposed to live there, like no one knows who Dean is. "You comin' home then?" he asks, presses the heel of his free hand against his eye, hard enough his vision goes dark and spotty.

"Not tonight," Dean says, sighs. "S'posed to fly to Connecticut to meet with the bigwigs or some shit, I dunno. Just—"

There's the sound of crashing, a thud, and it has Seth wincing, pulling the phone away from his ear, putting it back in time to hear Dean growling, shouting.

"Dean, c'mon," Seth says, raises his voice and tries again until Dean comes back, the sound of his harsh breathing filling the line. "It's gonna be okay." He knows it's a lie even as he says it. Nothing about this is okay, and Seth doesn't know how it's ever going to _be_ okay. Dean's career may very well be over.

"Yeah," Dean says, and it doesn't sound like he believes Seth at all. That's okay. Seth doesn't believe himself, either. "I should be home sometime tomorrow, I guess. I'll see you."

"I love you," Seth says, before Dean hangs up, because no matter what happens, he wants Dean to know that, to know that come hell or high water, Seth loves him.

"Love you," Dean says, quick and quiet, then he's gone, call details flashing on the screen.

Fuck.

Fucking motherfucker.

Seth knows what he has to do, and it makes him sick, makes his heart hurt, but it's the only way he can make things okay for Dean, even if it destroys Seth in the process.

* * *

Seth doesn't stay home after he leaves school, stops by to pick up his gym bag before driving to the gym, climbing on a treadmill and running.

He runs and he runs, trying to block all thoughts from his mind, but it's there, the photos, the callous display of their privacy being invaded, and he can't outrun it no matter how hard he tries.

Everything aches as he steps off the treadmill, and he's covered in sweat from head to toe, but it does nothing to distract from the sharp ache in his chest, the rock that's settled in the pit of his stomach.

He showers at the gym, changes back into his work clothes. He doesn't want to be home right now, doesn't want to sit around with the Christmas tree still up, the presents beneath it that have been waiting for them to open. He doesn't want to get stuck in his own head with everything that's happening, that's going to happen, so he heads in the direction of his parents' house, breathing a little easier when he sees his mom's car parked in the driveway.

The front door is unlocked, so Seth lets himself in, taking off his shoes in the entryway. His mom's lounging in the recliner in the living room, Kevin sprawled across her lap, and there's a soft smile on her face when she catches sight of him, but it quickly melts into a look of concern in response to the way Seth feels like he's barely keeping it together. Nothing like mother's intuition.

"Seth, what's wrong?" she asks, shooing Kevin off her lap as she rises to her feet.

Seth tries to smile, but he can feel the wobble of his lips, the stuttering of his heart, and he shakes his head, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone, unlocking it with shaky hands and navigating to the article that's been posted across the internet. He hands her the phone wordlessly, stooping down to pick up Kevin, holding him tightly to his chest.

"They can't do this, can they?" his mom asks, a shocked, disgusted look on her face.

"Doesn't matter if they can," Seth says, shrugs, "because they did."

His mom hands him back his phone, and he exits the webpage, locking the screen before he slides it back into his pocket. Out of sight, out of mind. Or, he wishes it was.

"How's Dean doing?" she asks, soft and concerned. He loves his mom, so much, loves how much she's come to love and care for Dean.

"He's angry," Seth says, tries not to remember the sounds of Dean destroying whatever room he was in earlier when Seth called. "They pulled him from tonight's live event, and I guess he has to fly to headquarters in Connecticut to see how they wanna play this."

"How do you want to play this?" his mom asks, gently inquiring.

Seth shakes his head. He doesn't want to think about it. He won't—he's not going to be the reason Dean's career ends, the reason Dean's reduced to nothing more than a part-time jobber when he deserves so much more than that, when he's infinitely better than that.

There's really only one choice for Seth to make, and he hates it.

* * *

Seth goes into work early, heads straight for the principal's office to apologize. Her door is open, and she's sitting at her desk, idly flipping through the papers in her hand. Seth knocks on the doorframe, offering an apologetic smile for the way he left yesterday, asks, "Can we talk?"

She nods, sets the papers down. "Come in, shut the door behind you."

Seth does, taking a seat in front of her desk. "I uh—I wanted to apologize for the way I left here yesterday," he says. "That article just took me by surprise." He shakes his head, swallows around the ache in his throat. "Not every day you see your face plastered across gossip sites, your relationship and boyfriend outed to the world."

"No, Seth, _I'm_ sorry," she says, frowning. "I had thought you were already aware. Had I known you weren't, I wouldn't have sprung it on you like that."

Seth nods, accepting the apology. For as stern and stoic as she can be, Seth didn't think for one moment she'd done it purposely, maliciously. "I know," he says softly. "But it won't be a problem. It shouldn't cause any kind of interference with my teaching."

"See that it doesn't," she replies, all business for a moment before she softens. "I am sorry about all of this, and I hope you and your partner are able to get through it."

"Thank you," Seth says. He leaves then, hands tucked into his pockets as he makes his way to his classroom. He tries to put everything to the back of his mind for the day, tries to focus on all the material he needs to review with his classes, but he's distracted, only half-present, and he tries to feel some semblance of relief when the day is over, when he can leave, but that just means going home, having a conversation with Dean that he really doesn't want to have.

Dean's rental is already in the driveway when Seth gets home, and he's filled with dread instantly at the sight of it. There's no stalling, though, knows this discussion needs to be had, so he grabs his briefcase, pocketing his keys, feet crunching through the snow as he makes his way up the walkway to the front door.

He pauses before he pushes the door open, takes a deep breath that does nothing to settle his nerves.

Dean's in the living room, elbows braced on his knees, head in his hands, but he looks up at the sound of Seth setting his briefcase down, the jingle of his keys in his coat pocket as he drapes it over the back of the sofa.

He looks… Dean looks like shit, like he hasn't slept at all, purple smudges beneath his eyes, his hair sticking up at odd angles, probably from where he couldn't stop tugging at it in frustration. It makes Seth's heart hurt.

The smile he offers Dean feels wrong on his face, and he wipes it away, rubbing a hand over his face. "How'd it go?" he asks quietly, sitting on the opposite end of the sofa. He needs space between them if he's going to get through this conversation without breaking to pieces.

Dean shrugs, sets his eyes on the space of carpet between his feet. "Haven't stripped me of my title yet," he says, low, void of emotion, "though I'd be more surprised if it didn't happen."

Seth swallows roughly. He hates this, hates that he—no, that _Dean_ —is being punished because of something he can't help, can't change. "What did they say, though?" Because they wouldn't have had Dean fly to Stamford for nothing.

Dean sighs. "Gave me a few options. One: deny, deny, deny, and find someone willin' to be my fake girlfriend. Two: say I was drunk, that you were just some stranger I was yuckin' it up with. Three: I own up to it, meaning, I come out, tell everyone you're my boyfriend."

Presented with the options, Seth wishes he hadn't heard them. His voice threatens to give out when he asks, "Which way are you thinking of going?"

Dean finally looks at him, eyes narrowed, jaw set. "What do you think I'm gonna do?" he asks, like it's a stupid question, like Seth's an idiot for not knowing the answer. "Time to stop hiding. I mean, s'not like I'm ashamed of you."

Seth never thought that, but—"No," he croaks out, shaking his head vehemently. "Dean, you can't. You'll lose everything you've worked your entire life for. I can't—I won't let you do that." It pains him to say it, but he won't let Dean ruin his career for him, because of him.

"I don't care about wrestling, Seth," Dean says, voice rising. "You're more important."

"And what are you going to do when you're pushed out, when you're nothing but a fucking a joke, a fucking jobber who only wrestles a few dates a year? You're going to end up resenting me for it, and I can't—" His voice dies in his throat, and he has to take a minute just to breathe.

"I'll go back to the indies, Seth, I don't care," Dean says, when Seth doesn't continue.

Dean's too good to go back to the indies, to be anywhere but where he is at WWE, and they both know it. It's a nice thought, that Dean would give up everything for him, but he can't let Dean do it. He can't let Dean risk everything.

"I won't let you do it," Seth says again, arms wrapped around tight around his waist like it'll keep him held together when all he wants to do is fall apart now. "I think we should end this." It hurts, god, it fucking hurts, forcing the words out of a throat that feels too small, too tight, heart breaking as he forces himself to keep breathing.

"Seth." Dean's voice sounds raw, broken, and Seth can't do this, he can't stay here. This is for the best, he knows it is, and he's sure Dean knows it, too. "Seth, c'mon, don't do this."

"I'm sorry," he says, barely louder than a whisper. "I'm sorry."

"Seth."

Seth shakes his head, forces his body to move. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes away from Dean as he maneuvers around the coffee table, down the hall to the bathroom, closing the door and sliding down to the floor, his knees hugged to his chest with his arms wrapped around them.

How did something so good get so bad? How could they be so stupid, so careless? They have no one to blame but themselves, and it hurts like nothing Seth's ever known before.

Every breath feels harsher than the last, and he's not surprised to find his eyes clouded over with tears, throat aching around the lump in it. All he wants to do is run out of the room and tell Dean he was joking, that he didn't mean it, that he doesn't know how to keep going without him, but he makes himself stay where he is, knows that this is what has to be done.

Dean shouldn't have to give up what he loves for him, and Seth would never dream of making him. He knows it would only breed resentment, and he doesn't want that, doesn't want to stay with Dean now only for Dean to start hating and resenting him five, ten years down the road when he takes a look back and realizes he missed out on being even bigger than he is now.

A knock at the door startles Seth, but he doesn't move, stays where he is.

"Gonna go stay at a hotel," Dean says, voice loud enough to carry through the door. "I uh—I'll stop by tomorrow when you're at work to pick up my shit, I guess."

Seth forces down the sob that's fighting to make its way out.

"I love you, Seth," Dean says, raps his knuckles against the door once more. "Just."

Seth tries to listen over the sound of his heart roaring in his ears, and it's faint, but he can hear the sound of Dean's booted feet moving across the hardwood floor, the sound of the front door opening and closing, and he lets the sob out then, a twisted, broken thing, scratching and clawing at his throat as it comes out.

His heart just walked out the door, and it's no one's fault but his own.

* * *

Seth sleeps on the sofa, can't bring himself to sleep in their bed, or, his bed now, he guesses. The sheets smell like Dean, like him and Dean, and as much as he wants to wrap himself in that comforting scent, he knows it'll only weaken his resolve, make him call Dean and take back everything he said.

It feels like he's in a fog all day, only half of him present as he tries to get through it. His heart is an aching, throbbing thing in his chest, a gaping wound that's never going to heal.

When he gets home, he has to take a steadying breath before he can make himself get out of the car, a rock in his stomach at the sheer wrongness of Dean's car not being parked there. It's a change, an adjustment he doesn't want to get used to.

The house is quiet, still, save for the sound of the heat pumping through the vents. He needs to get Kevin back from his parents, needs to get some kind of noise in the house so it doesn't feel so goddamn lonely.

The pile of Dean's shoes that were gathered in the entryway are gone, and the leather jacket he kept hung by the front door is no longer there. It's a hard sight to take in, and it gets worse when he steps into the living room, sees the house key set on top of a piece of paper, and he bites down on his fist to stop the ugly noise that wants to escape.

Seth picks up the key with shaky fingers, digs his thumb into the groove of the teeth. The note says _I love you, always_ , and Seth crumples to the sofa, clutching a pillow to his chest as he reminds himself over and over that this is for the best, that he's doing it for Dean, even if it means he's falling apart.

Things don't really get better as the days pass, and Seth's about as numb as it can get, merely going through the motions of waking up, working out, showering, going to work, going to sleep. He forgets to eat sometimes, though he has no real appetite, and everything he puts in his mouth tastes like ash, anyway.

His parents still have Kevin. His mom thought it best for the time being, while Seth works through what he's feeling right now, and he can't say she's wrong. He misses Kevin, the companionship, but he knows he's not in the right frame of mind to be looking after a dog, especially when he's having a hard enough time looking after himself.

It takes a week for Seth to move back into the bedroom, and he strips the bedclothes off immediately, holding his breath as he balls them up and shoves them into the washer, ignoring the chill of the winter air that comes in through the windows when he opens them, trying to get rid of the scent of Dean's cologne, his deodorant, that's still lingering in the air.

His phone chimes, vibrates in his pocket. He's been ignoring his phone for the most part, has kept it off or on silent. His parents will stop over if there's anything important they need to talk about, he rarely, if ever, gets calls from the school, and except for the times he'd spend calling or texting Dean, Seth's phone goes largely unused. He can't even remember the last time he updated any of his social media accounts, and the thought of checking them now makes him sick.

The photos that were taken of him and Dean were such high quality, Seth wouldn't be surprised if they already found out who he is. His Instagram is public, his Twitter is public, and he's posted countless photos of himself and Kevin over the years that he's had them.

His face scrunches in confusion at the number on the screen, one that isn't saved into his contacts, and he accepts the call hesitantly, putting the phone to his ear. "Hello?"

"Hi, yes, is this Seth Rollins?" It's a business, professional tone, and it sets Seth's nerves on edge.

"This is."

"I was hoping you'd like to make a comment about your relationship with Dean Ambrose." Still a business tone, but now it's also nosy, invading.

"No," Seth says, sick and seething, heart lurching in his chest. The ache hasn't begun to fade, not even a little, and it feels like it's happening all over, Dean walking out the door because Seth asked him to, told him that this was over.

He hangs up, throwing his phone down.

Safe to say who he is has gotten out. He's kind of surprised it took this long.

The wind whipping through the window has goosebumps breaking out over Seth's arms, and he rises to close it before pulling a sweater out of the closet, not even realizing it's Dean's until it's already on, the scent of Dean's cologne filling his nose.

It calms him, soothes him, settles the fraying edges of his nerves, if only momentarily. It's nowhere close to the peace and comfort having Dean near provides, but that's not an option anymore.

After the sheets have finished washing and drying, Seth puts them back on the bed, crawls beneath them, and settles in for another sleepless night, just like every night of the past week. His brain doesn't want to turn off, keeps running over all the different things they could have done differently to avoid the situation they're in now, but the _what if_ 's and _could have_ 's only make him feel worse, imagining Dean laying beside him had they made just one different choice, had _he_ made one different choice.

He's resolute in his decision, though, won't change his mind. If this is what needs to be done so Dean can keep his spot in the company, Seth's going to stick to it. There's no secret gay relationship for Dean to hide and lie about now, and he can go ahead with the option of saying Seth was just some random passerby he was messing around with under the influence of too much liquor.

The battery on Seth's phone has barely any charge remaining when he looks at it the next morning, and when he does, he wants to throw it against the wall, flush it down the toilet, because the amount of notifications for his Instagram and Twitter are fucking ridiculous.

Seth's stomach churns uneasily as he navigates to the Instagram app, everything in him telling him to close out of the app, to put his phone down and leave it alone, but there's a sick curiosity thrumming through his veins that has him thumbing through the notifications, feeling worse with every comment he sees.

 _wat does dean even see in u? ur not even good looking._

dean's too good for you

dean's not even gay. did u drug him?

stay away from dean, he's mine

Barring some of the more outlandish comments—the ones that proclaim Dean belongs to them—it's all the same thing, over and over, questioning how someone like Seth could land someone like Dean, wondering how Dean could even be with someone as unattractive as him, and it makes Seth feel sick, all those insecurities rearing their ugly head.

He swallows down the bile at the back of his throat, turning his phone off and throwing it to the bed.

That was a terrible fucking idea, and he hates himself for doing it. Like he needs to deal with peoples' negative perceptions on top of everything else right now. He already knows Dean deserved better than him; he doesn't need anybody else confirming that for him.

The days drag on, each one feeling longer than the last, and before he knows it, it's been two weeks. Two weeks, fourteen days, without Dean, with a gaping hole in his chest, his phone ringing off the hook to the point where he's powered it off, tucked it away in a drawer in his bedroom. He has nothing to say to the gossip hounds that keep calling, nothing to say to the numerous people who feel the need to bad mouth him behind a screen of anonymity.

It's the end of the first semester, and he's taught everything he needed to up until this point, and all he has left to do is grade the semester finals his classes completed. They're all multiple choice tests, with the exception of the creative writing class he teaches, and he stays after school until he has them all graded, the scores put into the gradebook. The less time he spends at home, the better off he is. It's too big now, feels too empty without Dean's presence, and even Kevin being back can't fix that.

Seth's just finished packing up his things when there's a knock on the door, and he lifts his head in surprise to see the principal standing there, a concerned look on her face.

"Hey, Mrs. Miller, what's up?" He leans back against the edge of the desk, hands tucked into his pockets.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing," she replies, heels of her shoes clacking against the floor as she makes her way further into the classroom.

Seth shrugs, sighs. "Doin' alright," he says, which isn't necessarily a lie. There are moments where he feels okay, like he'd dreamed the last ten months, that nothing at all has happened, until it all comes roaring back with a fierceness that steals his breath. He's not as okay then.

"I can't imagine how difficult things must be," Mrs. Miller continues, a sad smile on her face. "It's why I didn't want to bother you with the calls we've been getting for you."

Seth's mouth goes dry, a surge of anger flooding his veins. "What?"

Mrs. Miller sighs, shakes her head. "Just some nosy people, calling and trying to find out information about you," she explains, the distaste palpable in her voice. "No one gives them anything, mind you, so I'm not all too sure why they continue to call. They can barely finish getting your name out before we're hanging up." Her lips twist in a poor imitation of a smile. "In case they haven't noticed, this is a place of education, not a house of gossip."

Seth feels sick all over again. Calling his private phone is one thing, but to call his place of employment? These people have no fucking shame. "I'm so sorry," he says, swallows roughly. "I didn't think they'd stoop that low."

"Some people would go to ridiculous lengths just for a juicy piece of a gossip," Mrs. Miller says sadly. "You've got nothing to worry about here. No one is going to say anything. As far as they're concerned, we've never heard of Seth Rollins."

Seth laughs, the feeling a little foreign. It's been so long since he's found anything humorous enough to laugh over. "I appreciate that," he says, a genuine smile on his lips.

Mrs. Miller nods. "I know it's not my place to pry, but the last couple weeks don't look like they've been too great." She sounds hesitant, like she's afraid of overstepping boundaries, and Seth's not too sure she's not going to, even accidentally. "I don't know how things are faring with you and your partner right now, but I can't imagine it's been easy at all."

Seth's confusion and the slight irritation he's feeling at her talking about something that really isn't any of her business must show on his face, because she's quick to continue before Seth can cut her off.

"The semester is over, and you've got a four day weekend coming up, but I want you to take the rest of next week off as well. Just take some time, relax, decompress. Your lesson plan for next week is complete?" Seth nods. "Leave a copy of it on the desk and put in for a substitute. You've used what, one day of personal time in the four years you've worked here? You've got the time accumulated. Use it."

It sounds tempting, but it's too much downtime for Seth, too much time for him to get stuck in his head, something he's been trying to avoid for the last couple of weeks. There are only so many hours he can spend going over the same situations before he makes himself sick.

He nods, though, really thinking it over. He knows he's merely been going through the motions, doing what he has to because he has no other choice, and taking the time to really decompress without having to worry about having to teach the next day could probably do some good. "I'll do that," he says, his mind made up. It certainly can't make anything worse.

"I hope things get better, Seth," Mrs. Miller says, puts a hand on Seth's shoulder and squeezes.

"Thank you," Seth says, ignoring the hoarseness of his voice. Mrs. Miller leaves then, heels click-clacking out of his classroom, down the hall.

It's another half hour before Seth finally leaves, the sky dark, the air cold. He huddles into his jacket, pulls his hat further down over his ears, the engine of his car already idling. Remote starters are a thing of beauty, especially during the cold Midwest winters.

His car is pleasantly warm when he climbs inside, depositing his bag onto the passenger seat before fastening his seatbelt. Traffic and the conditions of the road make the drive even longer, and he's desperately hoping Kevin hasn't had an accident anywhere in the house when he pulls into the driveway, alarmed and on alert at the sight of a car already sitting there.

Seth's slow to get out of his car, and his heart ratchets up at the sound of the other car door opening, closing, and he barely resists throwing his bag when Roman's face appears in the glow of the streetlight.

"The fuck, Roman," Seth says, clutching a hand to his chest.

"I've been here for like, two hours, man," Roman says, rounding the front of his car to pull Seth into a hug, one Seth accepts easily, letting out a deep, shuddering breath. "C'mon. I need some heat and some food."

Seth leads Roman up the path to the front door, confused and bewildered by the fact that Roman is here, at his house. How does Roman even know where he lives?

Kevin's barking greets him as he unlocks and pushes open the door, and Seth drops his bag to scoop him up, scritching behind Kevin's ears.

Roman's still behind him, and he closes the door behind them, reaching out to smooth a hand down Kevin's back.

"I've just gotta let him out quick," Seth says, setting Kevin back down. "Pizza good?"

"I'll eat anything," Roman says with a shrug and a laugh.

Seth orders two large supreme pizzas while Kevin's out doing his business. It'll be a half hour before they arrive, so he settles in on the sofa, tells Roman to make himself at home, ignoring the way Roman's gaze keeps darting to the Christmas tree that's still in the corner, the presents still wrapped and tucked beneath.

"So," Seth says, raises an eyebrow at Roman, "how in the hell did you know where I live?"

Roman raises an eyebrow right back. "Found your address in the white pages online," he says, an obvious answer. "Should probably get your information unlisted real soon."

Seth blanches. He hadn't even thought about his address being unlisted, that if anyone wanted, they could track him down. "Y-yeah, I'll do that," he says, nodding. Not that it'll do any good now, if his address has already been found.

"How've you been?" Roman asks, voice a soothing rumble.

Seth shrugs. He doesn't want to lie to Roman, but telling him the truth doesn't seem like an easy thing. "Surviving, I guess," he says, because that, at least, is the truth. Every day sucks, yeah, but he's still surviving, still keeping on.

"It's a pretty shitty thing, what happened," Roman says, like Seth doesn't know that, like this isn't Seth's life they're talking about. "It's okay if you're not okay, y'know?"

"I know." Seth swallows roughly, hates that there are tears prickling at his eyes already. "How's—how's Dean?" He doesn't know why he asks, but he needs to know, and Roman's here, Roman knows.

Roman makes a face, shakes his head. "Probably 'bout as well as you," he says.

Whatever Seth was hoping to hear, that wasn't it. He'd hoped maybe Dean was doing better than he is, that Dean wasn't letting all of this get to him, that he was letting it roll off his back once the initial shock had passed.

"Anybody giving him shit?" Seth will always be worried about Dean, will always care for Dean, no matter what.

Roman snorts out a laugh. "Hell no," he says, shaking his head. "One, no one cares who's fuckin' who, who's stickin' their dick where. It ain't like it used to be, y'know? Times have changed, shit's gotten better. Dean's still Dean to everyone. Two, no one's stupid enough to say anything anywhere that's gonna get around to him, if they have anything to say at all. And—" Roman leans in closer to Seth, lips quirked up into a smile "—y'all weren't exactly quiet, y'know what I'm sayin'? Lotta people already knew y'all were together."

Something inside Seth's chest loosens at that, even over the brief flare of embarrassment that prickles across his skin, knowing no one is treating Dean any differently. It's good, a fucking relief, really. "Good," he says, nodding.

"That don't mean Corporate feels the same," Roman says sadly, fists clenching against his knees. "Steph's tryin', y'know, to get them to see how good it'd be for the image of the company, to show that it's making the same progression the rest of the country is with the equal rights and everything, but, y'know, rich old white dudes, stuck in their ways."

Seth figured as much. It's the whole reason behind him ending things with Dean. He refused to be part of the reason Corporate knocked Dean down, turned him into a joke of a wrestler, or anything but what he deserves after all the years he's given, all the work he's put in.

"That's why Dean's better off without me," Seth says softly, hating the tremble and give of his voice.

"Boy, are you dumb?" Roman shakes his head.

Seth narrows his eyes at Roman, chews on his bottom lip. "What?"

"On what planet is Dean better off without you?" Roman asks sharply.

"He has nothing holding him back now," Seth says, feeling a swirl of anger rising in him. Roman doesn't know anything, and he has no right prying into things not concerning him. "He doesn't have to hide and lie about me. He can be Dean Ambrose again, no parts of him hidden."

"He's always gonna be gay, Seth," Roman bites out. "You goin' away and breakin' up with him ain't gonna change that. 'Til he comes out, there's always gonna be a part of him that's hidden, but he was willin' to deal with all the repercussions for you."

"He shouldn't have to," Seth retorts, digs his nails into the meat of his palms. "His career should come first. Being the best at what he does should come first. There's no way I was going to let him sacrifice that for me."

"That's his choice, Seth, not yours," Roman says. "I get it, man, I do. You lost your shot at being a wrestler because of somethin' you couldn't control, but this? This you can control, and you don't want Dean sufferin' the same fate, but, man, you gotta let him make his own decisions. He's been wrestling for almost half his life, and he lives and breathes it, but y'know what's more important to him than wrestling?"

Seth shakes his head when it becomes clear that Roman's actually waiting for him to answer.

"You are," Roman says softly, a small smile on his lips. "Since the fuckin' day he met you. He'd give it all up in a heartbeat for you, man. Don't throw that kind of dedication away."

The doorbell rings before Seth can reply, and he's grateful for the interruption. He needs a minute to breathe, to process everything Roman's saying. It's a lot to take in, hearing it from Roman that Seth's more important to Dean than wrestling is, when Seth knows how much Dean fucking loves it, how he lives it and breathes it, how it's the only thing he's ever wanted to do with his life.

He busies himself with setting the pizza on the coffee table, grabbing bottles of water and a roll of paper towels from the kitchen. He's not hungry, a common occurrence these last couple weeks, but he grabs a slice, picks at the toppings and chews on a bite, as much as he chews on the words running through his mind.

"It's too much," Seth finally says, once he's swallowed and taken a drink of water. He's not talking about Dean, what Dean feels for him, how strongly Dean feels for him, because, yeah, it may be too much, too, but he loves Dean just as much, just as fiercely, and it's part of why Seth let Dean go: he loved him too much to hold him back, to restrict him, to drag him down because of their relationship.

Roman's already on his third slice of pizza, but he pauses between bites to ask, "What's too much?"

"They keep calling my work, calling my phone, and the shit people say online is just—" Seth shakes his head, shaking free of some of the more negative comments he's come across.

"Ignore 'em," Roman says. "People are fuckin' ballsy when they can hide behind their phones or computer screens. They say some pretty nasty shit about my wife, but, y'know, she don't mess with that shit. She ignores it. At the end of the day, she's who I'm goin' home to, not them."

"She's a strong woman," Seth says, stronger than he could ever hope to be. How she lets all those negative comments just roll of her back is something Seth can only dream of being able to do.

"Lemme guess," Roman says, wiping his hands on the sheet of paper towel that's draped over his thigh, "you agree with those assholes, don't you? That, what, Dean's too good for you, that he ain't serious about you, that you're nothin' but a good time to him, or that you ain't attractive enough for him, right?"

Seth doesn't say anything, dropping his gaze to the mangled piece of pizza in his hand.

"It's all bullshit, Seth," Roman says, loud and emphatic. "They're bitter and jealous that you have what they want, and they'll say anything to cut you down. They're vicious, nasty people."

"I know that," Seth says, and the thing is, he does know it, but it's hard when they're all saying shit he himself has thought over the last ten months.

"Dean wouldn't have stayed with you if he didn't want to." Roman grabs another slice of pizza, but he doesn't start eating it yet, picking off a pepper and popping it into his mouth. "He was with you because he wanted to be, and he still wants to be, Seth. That man hasn't given up on you yet."

Seth swallows roughly.

"I ain't sayin' it's gonna be easy," Roman continues, "and from the sounds of it, them gossip hounds have been makin' life pretty shitty for you, huh? If there's anything about this that's easy, though, is that you should be with Dean. Y'all are better together than you are apart."

"I don't want Dean to lose everything he's worked so hard for," Seth says, because that's what it all comes down to, and with Corporate being the way they are, Seth's more sure now than he was before that it's a very real possibility that Dean will lose everything.

"That's his decision to make, Seth. You can't make it for him. He believes you're worth risking everything for. Don't make him think he's been wrong about you."

* * *

Roman crashes on the sofa after they spend a few hours playing Madden, no more talk of Dean and wrestling to be had, and it helps take Seth's mind off of what he's going to do, even if only for a little while.

Tucked beneath the covers of his bed, the one he shared with Dean for so long, it all comes roaring back. He loves Dean, irrevocably, with every beat of his heart, every breath in his lungs, but can he allow Dean to potentially sacrifice everything he's working so hard for just for him?

He wants to go to Dean, to apologize for everything, to tell Dean he loves him, that no matter what happens, they can get through it together, because he's not himself without Dean. There's a piece of him that's missing, a gaping hole in his chest and his home where Dean should be, and he doesn't ever want it to be filled by anyone else.

He knew months ago that Dean was it for him, that Dean was the one person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, and that hasn't changed. It's never going to change.

And that's what makes up Seth's mind, has him packing a bag in the middle of the night, throwing things haphazardly into it, careless about all the noise he's making as he slams drawers and the closet door shut.

He's been an idiot these last couple weeks, but it was all so much to deal with. He knows it wasn't easy for Dean, either, having such a private, personal matter thrown out for everyone and their mother to gossip about, but Seth lives such a simple life, world's different from the one Dean lives. Yeah, Dean is a private person, but he's a public figure, and Seth's not. He's a high school teacher from Davenport, Iowa, an unknown, an average Joe.

There's no preparing for your life to be thrown into the public eye in such a way, and that, coupled with what it meant for Dean, for his career, had Seth running, an idiot move he knows now. The talk of marriage said that he'd stick by Dean's side no matter what obstacles came their way, and he ran at the first sign of trouble. How does Dean know he won't do it again in the future? He has so much to make up for, and they have so much to discuss.

Seth's stomach is in knots as the hours pass, as the sunlight creeps in through the windows, his bags packed on the floor in front of his bed, and he's up and on his feet at the first sound of Roman moving around. He carries his bags out to the living room, dropping them down by the sofa.

The noise is loud enough that it draws Roman's attention from where he's rubbing at his eyes, his hair a frizzed out mess. He raises an eyebrow, flicks his eyes from Seth's bags up to Seth's face. "He's at the house in Vegas," he says, rough and deep with sleep. Seth notices that he doesn't call it _home_ , and it thrills him, knowing that, to Roman, his house is still Dean's home.

"You flying back to Florida?" Seth asks, settling down on the arm of the sofa, Kevin nudging under his hand.

"Yeah." Roman nods. "Plane leaves in a couple hours. Need a lift to the airport?"

"If you could, yeah," Seth says, "that'd be great."

Roman excuses himself for a moment, the front door opening and closing, and when he returns, he's shaking off flakes of snow, a small bag in his hand. "Cool if I shower?"

"Yeah, of course."

Seth makes a small breakfast after he takes Kevin out, bacon, eggs, and toast, and a pot of coffee, more to give himself something to do while Roman showers than him being hungry, but he serves himself a plate, anyway, and a cup of coffee that helps him feel more awake.

Roman emerges with his hair wrapped in a towel, a sight that Seth can't help but laugh at. He knows the struggle all too well.

They eat in a companionable silence, and once they finish, Seth puts everything into the dishwasher, starting the cycle while Roman finishes getting ready.

"Mind if we stop at my parents?" Seth asks, pulling his coat over the sweater he's already wearing. "I've gotta drop Kev off."

"Sure. You ready?"

Seth nods, nerves swirling around in his stomach. The roads are covered in a fine dusting of snow, but there's almost no traffic, and it doesn't take very long to get to his parents. His mom's car is in the driveway, and he gathers Kevin up, tells Roman he'll be right out, and makes his way to the front door, shivering a little in the cold as he knocks and waits for her to answer.

His mom looks a little confused to see him, but she opens the door wider, letting Seth inside. He sets Kevin down and shoos him off. "Can you keep an eye on him for a couple days?" he asks, shoves his hands into the pockets of his coat to hide the way they're trembling from all the nervous energy thrumming through him.

"Of course," she says, "where are you going?"

Seth swallows roughly, offers a smile that grows wider as he thinks of bringing Dean home where he belongs. "Las Vegas. Gonna try to make things right with Dean."

His mom smiles. "About time you start talking some sense. Go, shoo. Don't come back unless Dean's with you."

Seth's eyes widen, and he laughs. "Sure thing, mom," he says, just to appease her. He leans down and kisses her cheek, says he'll let her know when he gets back, and darts back out the door to where Roman's still waiting in the car, fingers drumming against the steering wheel.

It's a quiet drive to the airport, and Seth waits until they're inside before he pulls Roman into a tight hug. "Thank you," he says, soft and heartfelt.

Roman ruffles Seth's hair when they separate, and he smiles. "It's what big brothers are for."

* * *

The flight feels like it takes forever, but when Seth's on the road, navigating his way to Dean's house, he wishes it would have been longer, if only to give himself more time to think through what he wants to say.

The driveway for Dean's house comes into view, and Seth's heartbeat triples, hammering behind his ribs, mouth going dry once he's parked, the keys to the car tucked inside his pocket. His moves are slow as he climbs out of the car, closing the door as quietly as he can, forcing himself to take deep, even breaths as he approaches the front door, hand poised to knock before he drops it back down to his side.

He paces back and forth across the length of the porch, trying to sort through the thoughts in his head, and he's so distracted he doesn't hear the front door open until Dean's standing there, clearing his throat.

Seth jumps, startled, but it's like everything in him slows down now that he's in Dean's presence. Dean looks… he looks tired, bags under his eyes, but he still looks good, standing there in a pair of shorts and nothing else, hair still a mess like he just rolled out of bed. Seth can't believe he was going to give this up.

"You comin' in?" Dean asks, turns around and retreats inside without checking to see if Seth is following him.

Seth steps inside, closes the door behind him. He hangs his coat on the coat rack, toes out of his shoes in the entryway. Dean's lounging on the sofa in the living room, the TV on some early morning talk show, and he's trying to look casual, trying to seem as though he's unaffected, but Seth can see how on edge he is by the clench of his jaw, the way he's staring straight ahead at the TV.

His heart rate increases again, but he steels his nerves, placing himself on the edge of the coffee table between Dean and the TV. He tries to catch Dean's eye, but Dean doesn't seem to want to meet his gaze, and it makes Seth feel like shit, to know that he's done this to Dean.

"I'm sorry," Seth croaks out, figures that's as good a place as any to start. "I shouldn't have—I shouldn't have ended things. I shouldn't have left you to deal with this all on your own. I didn't—I'm so sorry, Dean."

Dean nods, shows that he's listening, but he doesn't say anything, keeps his gaze locked on a point over Seth's shoulder.

Seth didn't think it was going to be easy, but he also didn't think it was going to be this hard.

"I don't know what to say," Seth admits, folds his hands together between the spread of his legs. He blinks rapidly, tries to will away the prickle of tears burning his eyes.

"C'mere," Dean says, holds a hand out for Seth to take, and Seth does, collapsing forward against Dean's chest, burying his face in the crook of Dean's neck. He smells like safety, like home, love, protection, all the things Seth has been missing.

"I'm so sorry," Seth repeats, again and again until he's merely mouthing the words against the stubbled skin of Dean's neck.

Dean's hand smooths up and down the line of Seth's back, and Seth melts into it, until Dean's hands move up to either side of his jaw, pulling him back so Seth can see his face. "Don't ever fuckin' do that to me again, Seth, okay? Because I can't—" Dean's voice cracks, and he shakes his head, eyes falling shut as he leans forward, rests his forehead against Seth's.

Seth closes the small bit of distance between their lips, feeling all the weight leave his body. He doesn't know how to tell Dean that he won't do it again, that it wrecked him just as much as it wrecked Dean, but he can do this, he can kiss Dean with everything he feels, everything he is, put into action how much he loves Dean, how much he needs him.

There's no urgency behind the way Dean's kissing him back, not yet, his lips sliding smoothly against Seth's, the softest little sounds that make Seth's heart ache, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. Seth does his best to kiss them away, to lick the sounds from Dean's mouth, soothing them with the slide of his lips, the curl of his tongue.

As much as Seth wants to lose himself in this, in the feel of Dean's lips and hands on him, he knows he can't, knows that they have a lot to talk about, and it's with great reluctance that he pulls back, shifts off Dean's lap and settles down onto the sofa beside him.

"You doin' okay?" Dean asks after a minute, after his breathing's calmed, and Seth loves him so fucking much he can barely breathe. Everything Dean's going through, and he still asks about Seth first.

"Better now," Seth says softly, feels infinitely lighter now that he's back at Dean's side. "But, I mean, shit's been pretty bad the last couple of weeks, y'know? The constant phone calls, all the shit people have been saying online, it's a lot to deal with."

"I'm sorry," Dean says, shaking his head. "I'll make sure everyone knows you're off-limits from now on, okay?"

"That doesn't matter," Seth says, because it doesn't, and it shouldn't have. He shouldn't have let it have such a big impact on him, should've ignored it all. "What matters is you, and how you're doing."

Dean shrugs. "I still have my title, so there's that," he says, quick, sarcastic laugh that makes Seth wince. "It's not so bad, though, I guess, finally bein' out. Sucked having to hide it, y'know? But Corporate's bein' a fuckin' dick, especially since I haven't really made a comment one way or another on the whole thing. Like, they wanna cover it up and act like it hasn't happened, tryin' to get me to be seen with some woman or another, but Steph, y'know, as a businesswoman, she's fuckin' scary, and she's trying to make them see how this could be a good thing, like, how having an out and proud wrestler in the spotlight with a title is proving to everyone else that we're not stuck in the Stone Age, that we as an industry are open and accepting."

"Yeah, Roman mentioned that Stephanie was working really hard in your favor," Seth says, and he's grateful for it, grateful that there's someone in a position of power who's behind them, who doesn't want them to hide, or lie about who they are to each other.

"Are you okay with that?" Dean asks, quietly, like he's afraid to know the answer. Which is stupid, because Seth wouldn't be here if he wasn't ready for Dean coming out, for everything that entailed. With how he reacted in the beginning, though, he understands Dean's trepidation.

"Whatever you need," Seth says, "I'm here, and I'm not goin' anywhere. Not this time. This, you, everything, I'm all in, Dean."

"You sure?" Dean asks, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. Seth puts his hand on Dean's leg, squeezes.

"I shouldn't have tried to make any decisions for you," Seth says softly, shaking his head. "I just—I didn't want you to lose your wrestling career because of me, y'know? That's what you worked your entire life for, and I couldn't fathom being the reason you lost it all. I mean, you know I'd give anything to be able to wrestle just one more time. The end of my career wasn't something I could change, but yours? I figured if I just took myself out of the equation, it would all go away."

"You leavin' didn't change the fact that I'm gay, Seth," Dean says with a snort. "It was gonna happen sooner or later, y'know? Not like we were ever very careful."

Seth doesn't even have an argument for that because he knows it's true. "I know," he says. "But I shouldn't have broken up with you. That was—" Seth shakes his head, feels a lump in his throat that he swallows down "—the stupidest thing I ever could have done. I've regretted it every day, Dean, you have to know that. I just. I didn't think I could handle it, but what I couldn't handle was being without you." Everything beyond that is gravy. There's nothing Seth can't or won't face with Dean at his side.

Dean wraps his arm around Seth's shoulder, and Seth lets his body sag into the curve of Dean's body, the heat radiating from his skin that Seth feels through the layer of his t-shirt, takes in a deep, shuddering breath, heart settling in his chest once again. "You're here now," Dean says, hand cupped around the ball of Seth's shoulder, thumb rubbing in soothing circles. "Knew you'd come back, Seth. Never doubted you for a minute."

Seth wants to cry at the absolute faith Dean has in him, because for awhile there, Seth wasn't sure if he was ever going to come back to Dean, if he was going to be able to deal with the media, the fans, with the possibility of Dean losing his wrestling career because of him, and had it not been for Roman, Seth probably wouldn't be here now, tucked up tight against Dean's body, feeling more at home than he did back in Davenport. The fact that Dean believed all along that Seth was going to come back to him, no shred of doubt in his voice, it fills Seth with so many emotions his eyes blur, his breathing stutters, and all he can do is hide his face in Dean's chest.

He's never known a love like the way Dean loves him, and sometimes he thinks he's going to burst with how much he loves Dean in return.

"C'mere," Dean says, pulls Seth back into his lap, and Seth moves easily, Dean's hands on his hips, looking up at Seth like Seth's everything, like he hung the moon and the stars, and all Seth can do is kiss him again, lips slotted perfectly against Dean's, licking into the wet heat of Dean's mouth, letting the arousal swim through his veins, lightheaded with how fast he goes hard.

Dean's touch is like a bolt of electricity to every one of his nerve endings, lighting him up from the inside out, skin pebbled with goosebumps everywhere his skin is pressed against Dean's.

He can feel that Dean's hard beneath him, hips pressing up against the curve of Seth's ass, and Seth can't stop the moan that bubbles up and out, licked away by the curl of Dean's tongue.

Dean's hands are insistent on him, pushing up his shirt, thumbs sliding up the ladder of his ribs, shirt rucked up under his armpits when Dean pulls his mouth away from Seth's lips to put them on Seth's chest, lips and tongue moving from one nipple to the other and back until Seth's crying out, arching away from the sensation.

He removes his shirt and then he's sliding to the floor between the spread of Deans legs, his hands on Dean's thighs, feeling the power and strength in them as Dean slides down on the sofa, ass almost hanging off the edge. The swell of his dick looks obscene like this, pushing the fabric of his shorts up and out, and it has Seth's mouth watering, his palms itching.

Seth mouths at the hard line of Dean's cock, from the base to the tip, hands tight on Dean's thighs, feeling the tremble in them as Dean resists thrusting up against his face. It's cute and all, and Seth loves that Dean's being respectful, but it's been two weeks and Seth just _needs_.

He growls, gets his fingers hooked into the waistband of Dean's shorts, pulling them down his hips, his thighs, not surprised to find that Dean's not wearing underwear. It makes his own dick throb sharply, a burst of want zipping along his veins, and he gets Dean's shorts off completely, looks up at him with a raised brow. "Did you quit wearin' underwear?"

Dean looks surprised for a half a second before he laughs. "All my shit's still in bags, waitin' to be moved back home. Didn't feel like unpacking any of it."

Seth presses his lips together, swallows and nods. Two weeks and Dean hadn't bothered unpacking anything? Jesus. "Easier access, I ain't complainin'." He settles down between Dean's thighs again, mouth pressed to the salty, warm skin on the inner side of Dean's knee. He laves over the area, thick swipes of his tongue up the inside of Dean's thigh, the muscle there shaking, Dean's hand a solid weight at the top of Seth's head.

The skin there is warm, pale, and Seth sets his teeth to it, bites and sucks, Dean's hand tangled in his hair, and Seth pulls back with a satisfied grin at the bruise he knows is going to be there for days.

Dean's cursing under his breath, hips rocking back and forth in the smallest of movements, and Seth wastes no more time, seals his lips around Dean's dick and swallows him down, one hand cupping the weight of Dean's balls.

"Goddamn, Seth," Dean grits out, rocking up into Seth's mouth, and Seth takes it, humming, relaxing his jaw and throat, letting Dean use his mouth. It's what he's craving, aching for, wants Dean to fuck him and use him, leave him bruised and sore everywhere, a reminder for days that what they have is real, not a dream Seth's mind has conjured up. "C'mere, c'mere."

A hand cradling the side of his neck, Seth pulls off Dean's cock, throat burning and aching, tears dampening his eyes, but he feels so fucking good, hard and sticky wet inside his pants. His lips feel swollen, and there's spit everywhere, soaking his beard.

"Get your fuckin' pants off, c'mon," Dean growls out, pawing at the button of Seth's jeans. Seth laughs, weightless and elated, popping the button on his jeans and pulling down the zipper, Dean taking over and shoving them down his hips, boxer-briefs gone with them.

It takes a minute, finagling the tight denim down his legs and off his feet, but Dean gets rid of the rest of Seth's clothes, pulling Seth down onto his lap once he does. His cock brushes against Dean's stomach, a slick trail of precome marking up the skin, and it has his back arching, hands digging into Dean's shoulders, trying not to rut up against him.

"What do you want, Seth?" Dean asks, closes his fist around Seth's dick, and Seth can't think, can't breathe, Dean's hand stroking slowly, thumbing over the wet head. "C'mon, baby, what do you want?"

Seth gasps, wets his lips, riding the motion of Dean's hand. He can feel how Dean's grinding against his ass, and as much as he's missed that, as much as he wants to feel Dean sliding inside him, there's something he wants more. "I wanna fuck you."

"Yeah, yes," Dean says eagerly, a thrust of his hips that almost dislodges Seth from his lap.

It's a scramble and a flurry of limbs as they move, switching positions, Dean settling with his knees on the sofa, his arms and head resting on the back of it, Seth smoothing a hand down the line of Dean's spine. "Lube?" he asks, rough and gritty, hoarse from Dean's cock.

"Under the sofa cushion," Dean says, cants his hips farther back, ass high in the air.

Seth hums softly, remembers that after New Year's Eve, they'd shoved the bottle under cushions. It's handy now, Seth retrieving the bottle and popping the cap, squeezing it out over the cleft of Dean's ass, watching with hungry eyes as it drips down over Dean's asshole.

Dean gasps, shivers, and Seth smirks, though he knows Dean can't see. He puts his lips to the small of Dean's back, trails soft kisses over the warm, salty skin, brushing over Dean's hole with the pad of his thumb. He teases it inside, pushing in just the tip before he pulls it back out, over and over until Dean's cursing at him. "Fuckin' c'mon, Seth," he bites out, though he sounds more wrecked than threatening.

Seth laughs softly, but he runs his fingers through the slick still wetting Dean's hole, pushes his middle finger in and out, rubbing against Dean's prostate. Dean's entire body jolts like he's been electrocuted, and he's making these soft, needy sounds that shake Seth down to his core.

He preps Dean as quickly and thoroughly as he can, slicks himself up and scoots up behind Dean. "Good?" he asks, one hand on Dean's hip, the other holding himself loosely, teasing the head of his cock over the opened space of Dean's asshole.

"Yeah," Dean says, sounds as breathless as Seth feels. "C'mon, Seth."

Seth slides in slowly, Dean still so tight around him. Dean makes this sound, this punched out little moan that goes straight to Seth's balls, has him cursing under his breath because he knows this is going to be over far sooner than he'd like.

The dipping curve of Dean's spine is a beautiful thing. It sets his ass up right against Seth's hips, Seth's dick buried as deep inside Dean as he can get it. He's flexing around Seth, whether he's doing it purposely or still trying to adjust, Seth's not sure, but it has him gripping Dean's hips tighter, groaning out Dean's name.

"You gonna move or what?" Dean asks, looks over his shoulder at Seth, an eyebrow raised.

Seth draws back, snaps his hips forward, smirking. "That good enough for you?"

Dean makes a sound like he's thinking it over, a hum that sounds like a swarm of bees. He lifts a shoulder. "Mmmm, you can do better."

The next thrust is a little harder, a little rougher, and it has the desired effect of making Dean swear and groan, entire body sagging forward a little as Seth starts fucking into him with purpose, quick snaps of his hips against Dean's ass, the sound of skin on skin sending shivers down Seth's spine.

"Not…so cocky…now, are ya?" Seth gasps out, words timed with the thrusts of his hips.

Dean retaliates by clenching down around him, filthy little laugh following. The sound of it lights Seth up on the inside, makes his heart swell. To think he'd ever thought about living without this, without Dean.

He rolls his hips against Dean's ass, grinds his dick in against Dean's prostate, smoothing a hand up and down the line of Dean's spine. He never wants this moment to end, wants to stay here for as long as he can, forever, him and Dean, no one and nothing else, the outside world gone.

Seth falls forward, his chest pressed up against the sweat-slick skin of Dean's back, mouthing at the curve of Dean's shoulder, his hands covering Dean's where they're holding tight to the back of the sofa. "I love you," he says, words whispered into Dean's skin, hips moving and grinding, lacing his fingers with Dean's as best as he can. "M'sorry, I love you, I'm sorry," he whispers, words pressed out against the warm skin of Dean's neck.

"Seth, stop," Dean says softly, and Seth does, hips still against Dean's ass. "Move a sec?"

Seth goes back up on his knees, grips himself with one hand, the other splayed out on Dean's hip. He draws back, holding his dick loosely in his hand, watching with a furrowed brow as Dean turns over, shuffles to his feet.

"Sit," Dean says, both hands on Seth's biceps, directing him down onto the sofa, and when Seth goes down, pliant under Dean's hands, Dean settles in his lap, guides Seth's dick back inside. His hands are on Seth's shoulders, hips moving smooth and fluid, and Seth couldn't look away if you paid him to. "I love you," he says, eyes locked on Seth's, breathing a little harder, a little faster, and there's a soft, reverent look on his face that has Seth's heart beating rabbit-quick behind his ribcage, his mouth a little dry. "You don't gotta keep apologizing."

Seth nods, though he can't quite focus on what Dean's saying, not with the way Dean keeps clenching around him, moving like a vice up and down the length of Seth's dick, the blunt edges of his fingernails digging into the meat of Seth's shoulders. He's a distraction in the best of ways, one Seth never wants to be without.

"Y'hearin' me?" Dean asks, and he squeezes even tighter around Seth's dick, the grip of his fingers this side of bruising, like that's going to make Seth pay attention when really, Seth's eyes are trying their damnedest to roll to the back of his head, his orgasm coming on like a freight train.

One hand on Dean's hip, the other wrapped around his cock, Seth starts thrusting up into him, their hips moving in tandem, Seth rocking up every time Dean slides down. Dean's skin is slick with sweat, and Seth's hand starts slipping from where it's anchored on Dean's hip, so he digs his fingers in a little tighter for a better grip, fervently hoping there will be bruises later, five finger shaped bruises that'll match Seth's hands and Seth's hands only.

His grip on Dean's dick is a little loose, looser than Dean usually needs, but with how long it's been, the way Seth knows he's sliding back and forth across Dean's prostate, it doesn't take long for Dean to come, wet and hot over Seth's fist, clamped so tight around Seth's dick there's nothing he can do but come, endless wet pulses that fill Dean's ass, robbing him of his breath, fireworks exploding behind his eyes.

"I mean it," Dean says, slumping forward against Seth, warmth of his breath raising goosebumps over the sweat-slick skin of Seth's chest. Seth wraps his arms around Dean, trails the tips of his fingers down the knobs of Dean's spine. "We're okay, Seth. I love you, and we're okay."

Eventually, Seth will believe it, when he doesn't feel like it's all a dream, like he's going to wake up in an empty bed, Dean not there beside him because he screwed up, because he made the biggest mistake of his life and lost the one person he could have ever imagined himself spending it with.

And when he does finally believe it, he's going to spend the rest of his life making it up to Dean, proving to Dean that he loves him irrevocably, that there's nowhere else he'd rather be than at Dean's side, at his back, supporting him and loving him, whatever obstacles they may face.

Together, they'll always find a way.


	13. Chapter 13

Boxes and briefcases, and a happy ending.

(a/n: I took some artistic licensing with this chapter, but it had to be done to keep in line with actual events I wanted to keep intact.)

* * *

So, here it is, two months later. Part of it was me not wanting to let this fic go, and part of it was life getting to be a little crazy and hectic. I wanted to take a moment and thank every person who's read, bookmarked, kudo'd, and commented. This would not have been completed if it weren't for all of you, and your response and feedback to this fic is so much more than I ever could have hoped for. Thank you all, so so much, and I hope you enjoy the end of this ride.

* * *

Seth returns to work, and Dean moves back home. It's an adjustment getting used to how things are now, the fact that he's not quite a nobody from Davenport, Iowa because he's dating Dean Ambrose, the follower count on is Twitter and Instagram rising every day. He doesn't understand that. He hardly posts anything at all, and when he does, it never pertains to Dean. It's always food or Kevin related, and the comments are a thing he's learned to ignore for the most part, except to laugh at the ones that beg and plead for candids of Dean, as if Seth would ever post any of those.

Dean ends up losing his Intercontinental Championship, but the odds were hardly in his favor. No matter, Seth is proud of him.

The months fly by, and before Seth knows it, the school year is over, and he's packing up his classroom once again, a box on the floor beside his desk while Dean does his best to distract him, mouth warm and wet on Seth's neck.

"C'mon, lemme finish," Seth says, trying futilely to twist away from Dean. "Quicker I get this done, quicker we can get home."

Dean hums softly, the buzz of his lips vibrating against the sensitive shell of Seth's ear. "Or," he says, a hand snaking around Seth's body, fingertips sliding beneath his shirt, "we could make good use of this desk."

Seth swallows roughly, tries to ignore the heat pooling down low in his belly. He remembers Dean's text from so many months ago, __don't think id be doing much learning if u were my teacher__ , and it has his heart racing, the sound of blood rushing echoing through his ears.

"C'mon," Dean croons, pulls Seth's body in tighter against his, and all Seth can do is relax back against him, resolve quickly falling away. "The lot was empty when we got here. You can cloose the door and lock it, and I can spread you out across this desk."

Seth curses under his breath, knowing Dean has won.

Fucker likes to play dirty.

He lets Dean sweep the rest of his tings off the top of the desk and into a box, and then Dean's crowding him up against the edge of the desk, their hips slotted together as Dean's hands frame Seth's face, lips hovering against Seth's so close but nowhere near close enough.

"Kiss me," Dean whispers, words spoken against Seth's lip, sending tiny little shivers across Seth's skin. Seth does, because what else can he do, because he will never not want to kiss Dean, and he melts into the feel of Dean's lips against his own, warm and wet and slightly chapped, each slide of lips and swipe of a tongue a practiced and fluid motion.

"Here, c'mon," Dean says, pressure of his hands against Seth's ass, and then he's being lifted, up onto the top of the desk, Dean settling down into the chair behind him, placed perfectly between the spread of Seth's legs.

"The door," Seth points out, jerking his head in that direction. He's getting hard already, but the door isn't locked, and he's not going to be able to enjoy anything until he's as certain as he can be that no one's going to walk in.

"Paranoid," Dean sing-songs, but he rises to his feet and locks the door, gesturing at it like it's a prize.

"Wouldn't be callin' me paranoid if someone were to walk in and take pictures of your pale ass," Seth retorts, laughing at Dean's affronted look. "It's pale, Dean, get over it."

"Bite me."

"Mmm," says Seth, makes grabby hands at Dean until he's closer and he can pull him in, and he sets his teeth to Dean's shoulder when he reels him in, blunt and barely there through the fabric of Dean's t-shirt. He settles his hands at Dean's hips, pushing the t-shirt up and up and up until he can pull it over Dean's head, and then he gets his teeth on Dean's nipple, soothing the sting of the bite with a soft swipe of his tongue.

Dean curses softly, threading a hand through Seth's hair. "Thought—thought I was gonna be spreadin' you out across the desk."

"Doesn't mean I can't have a little fun," Seth says, dragging his lips and tongue down the center of Dean's chest, his stomach, as low as he can go without having to push Dean back, before the angle makes his neck hurt.

Realistically, Seth knows he shouldn't be dragging this out. There's only so much time before a custodian will come to the door, discover it's locked, and get the keys to unlock it. Classrooms are emptied and cleaned out as soon as the teachers are done using them for the year, and Seth's sure the custodians want to get their summer vacation started as soon as they possibly can.

Still, it gives him a little thrill to be taking his time here, knowing that at any moment, someone could come to the door and knock on it, find out they're in there and what they're doing.

It's slow-going, but eventually, Dean gets him turned, his shorts and briefs down around his ankles, sliding his dick along the cleft of Seth's ass, and all Seth can do is hold tight to the top of the desk, sweat trickling along the dip of his spine, breathing in short, shuddering gasps.

"C'mon, c'mon," Seth says, canting his hips back. He knows he's leaking all over the top of the desk, but he doesn't care, dick sliding through the wet mess of precome.

"I got you," Dean says, smoothing a hand down the line of Seth's back, anchoring at his hip. There's no lube, and Seth's a little frustrated, but this, this is good, too, Dean's dick sliding along his crack, the tip slip-sliding back and forth over his asshole, and it gets better when Dean wraps a hand around his dick, thumbing at the wet tip, rocking his hips back and forth like he's actually fucking Seth, and Seth's losing his mind, Dean's cock nudging up against his balls again and again, his hand stroking Seth expertly.

"Fuckin' gorgeous," Dean says, soft, breathy, reverent.

Seth moans, long and low, trying to keep his voice down, but it's futile with the way Dean keeps thumbing at the tip of his cock, stroking sure and tight, and it's not long before Seth's breathing stutters, a cry of Dean's name falling from his lips, coming hot and wet in spurts over the desk, Dean's fist, Dean not far behind him, soaking his balls, the insides of his thighs.

Seth's legs feel like rubber when he tries to stand straight, after Dean's placed a soft kiss to the nape of his neck. He's hot and sweaty, his shirt sticking to him uncomfortably, and he's not exactly excited about having to pull his briefs and shorts back up with all the come covering his skin, but it's dirty and filthy, thrilling in a way Seth's kind of surprised to find he likes.

Dean helps Seth right his clothing, smoothing his hair off his forehead. He kisses Seth softly, grinning. "Fuckin' amazing, babe," he says, cheeks flushed, hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. He's always so fucking gorgeous, it makes Seth's heart feel too full sometimes.

Seth kisses him again, because he wants to, because he can. "I love you."

Dean grins, cheeks dimpling. "I love you, too. C'mon, let's go home."

"We're just leaving the desk like that?" Seth asks, trying hard not to make a face of disgust. He doesn't want any of the custodians coming in, seeing the desk in his classroom covered in come. That's—it's. No.

"I guess not," Dean says. He grabs the box of Kleenex that's on top of one of the bookshelves, pulling out a handful and swiping them haphazardly over the top of the desk. "Better?" At Seth's nod, Dean says, "Good. C'mon, I'm hungry."

Seth double-checks his clothes, makes sure there are no suspicious stains anywhere, and when he finds that he looks okay, he unlocks the door and opens it, Dean following behind him with the box of Seth's stuff tucked under his arm.

* * *

Seth's glad to be back on the road with Dean. As hectic as it can be sometimes, as stressful and grueling as it is to travel from city to city every night, he loves being with Dean again, loves that he doesn't have to sit home alone every night, missing Dean.

They're in Vegas today, Money in the Bank scheduled to start in a few hours. Dean's quiet, running through stretches and warm-ups, and Seth's content to sit back and watch, knowing Dean has a lot running through his mind.

Seth won't lie and say he's not just as on edge, his nerves setting his stomach into an avalanche of butterflies. There's a lot on the line for Dean tonight: the Money in the Bank briefcase—which Seth is certain Dean will win—and the shot at the World Heavyweight Championship that comes with it.

Dean pauses between push-ups, settling up on his haunches, a crease between his brows.

"You okay?" Seth asks, keeping his voice quiet and hushed.

Dean nods, then shakes his head. "Big night," he says, voice just as quiet as Seth's. "Just got a lot on my mind, is all."

"Win or lose tonight," Seth says, "I'm still gonna be super fuckin' proud of you."

"I know." Dean pushes up off the floor, rising to his feet and crossing the small bit of distance between them. He drops a kiss to Seth's lips, a soft, chaste thing that Seth tries to deepen, shasing the grinning pink of Dean's lips as they separate.

"Okay, okay," Seth says, grinning up at Dean. "Go finish your workout."

Before Dean can drop back down to the floor, there's a knock on the door, Roman's head peeking through a moment later. He's in shorts and a tank top, his hair piled in a bun on top of his head. His headphones are draped around his neck, and he looks like he's just gotten in from a run.

"Hey, Roman," Seth greets him, quick nod of his head in Roman's direction.

"Hey, Seth." Roman nods back, but his eyes quickly land on Dean where he's standing with his hands on his hips. "Just wanted to borrow your boy here for a minute."

Seth raises an eyebrow in Dean's direction, but Dean shakes his head, offers Seth a sincere smile that Seth returns, and then Dean is following Roman out the door, leaving Seth to wonder what they're talking about.

Dean doesn't say anything when he comes back in a few moments later, and Seth doesn't press, lets Dean get back to his warm-ups, and before he knows it, the show is starting, and Seth's preparing to make his way out to his front row seat.

"Hey," Dean says, tugs and Seth's hand, and pulls him in, chests pressed flush together. He tugs at the hem of Seth's shirt, one of Dean's official WWE shirts, his eyes locked on Seth's, the clearest shade of blue that Seth loves. "Kiss for luck?"

Seth laughs a little, shakes his head. "You don't need any luck," he says, but he presses his lips against Dean's anyway, will never turn down an opportunity to kiss Dean. "Meet you back here in a few hours?"

Dean hums, nods, kisses Seth against before he shoots Seth out the door, and Seth goes, nodding polite hellos to the superstars he comes across.

The first handful of matches are okay, but Seth's not really on the edge of his seat ntil it gets to the Styles vs Cena match, and then Seth's riveted, so into the match he forgets that Dean's is on next, until it's over and they're playing the video package for the ladder match.

His heart is hammering in his chest and his palms are sweaty as he watches the ladders being placed around the ring, and he has to keep reminding himself to breathe, calmed only by the sight of Dean walking down the ramp, perfect picture of complete focus.

Once the match gets started, it's too much back and forth for anyone to really have the upperhand, and the constant use of ladders as weapons has Seth holding his breath, feeling sick at every blow Dean takes. He's undoubtedly going to be covered in bruises by the end of the night.

When Jericho gets Dean sandwiched between the sides of the ladder, slamming it down on him repeatedly, Seth feels sick, has to look away and try to tune out the pained grunts he can hear. Alberto Del Rio interferes then throwing Jericho into a ladder, away from Dean, and Dean rolls away into a corner of the ring, until Cesaro barrels into the ring, dealing out uppercut after uppercut after uppercut.

Dean is getting beat pretty badly, but Seth's faith and belief in him never wavers, after the Helluva Kick Sami Zayn nails him with, after he gets hit upside the head with the ladder Del Rio is carrying into the ring, after everyone has climbed the ladder except for Dean.

Dean finally gets back in the ring, nails Cesaro with Dirty Deeds, but Jericho is right there, throwing Dean out of the ring so he can climb the ladder himself, but Dean's quick, gets back in the ring, pulls Jericho down, but Jericho counters, hits Dean with the Codebreaker, and Seth's stomach drops, certain the match is over. There's no one in the ring to get in the way, and Jericho is at the top, has his hands on the briefcase, but then Sami Zayn is there, climbing up the ladder, a flurry of his being exchanged, and the match goes on.

Seth's pretty sure his heart stops beating for a minute when Dean climbs the ladder that's set up in the corner, jumping off with a flying elbow drop to Cesaro. It gives Dean an opening to climb the ladder in the middle of the ring, but no, Kevin Owens is there, slamming another ladder into Dean's back, laying him out on top of it, and hits him with a vicious frogsplash that Seth's almost certain probably bruised a rib or two.

The match picks up in its intensity then, everyone feeling the pressure, and it's so close, too close, everyone on the ladders at once. Seth chews at his thumbnail, nervous beads of sweat prickling along his hairline, the nape of his neck, everyone battling with everything they've got, and then it's just Owens and Dean at the top of the ladder, Dean's hand fisted in his shirt, pulling him in against the ladder repeatedly until Owens falls off.

Dean's alone at the top, no one in sight to knock him down, and Seth jumps to his feet, throat going sore with the intensity of his screams as Dean gets his hands on the briefcase, unclipping it and hoisting it up above his head, looking serious and accomplished, and Seth's so goddamn proud he almost can't breath with it, tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he grins so wide it feels like his face is going to split in half.

He sallows around the lump in his throat as Dean crosses his chest, bows his head and rests it against the briefcase like he can't believe that he did it, like he didn't believe he'd win when Seth knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was going to be Dean's year.

Seth is in awe as he watches Dean celebrate atop the ladder, a grin don his face, his tongue sticking out, clutching the briefcase to his chest like it was fucking made for him. He looks so fucking good, Seth still can't believe that this is his life, that Dean is his.

As much as Seth wants to go to the back after the match, he reigns himself in, wants to watch Roman in the main event. He sits through the match for the United States Championship, grateful when it ends. He has nothing against either Rusev or Titus O'Neil, he's just anxious to get to the back, and the sooner Roman's match is over, the sooner he can be back in Dean's locker room.

Roman's match is hard fought, and by the end of it, Seth's sure Roman's going to lose, but he manages to muster up enough strength to land a Superman Punch, a spear, and he's retained his title.

Seth grins up at Roman, applauds and cheers as Roman holds the belt above his head, and he's preparing to head to the back when Dean's music hits, and Seth nearly loses his shit. He's on his feet with the rest of the crowd, screaming and cheering himself hoarse, hardly able to believe this is actually happening.

He, along with everyone else, is expecting Dean to come barreling down the ramp, so it takes him by surprise when Dean comes out from under the ring, a steely look of determination on his face as he slides into the ring, Roman barely turning around before Dean nails him in the head with the briefcase, sliding back out and shoving the briefcase at the referee, and Dean's cashing in, holy fuck, Seth's pretty sure his heart is going to give out.

Dean's back in the ring, and the bell has barely rung before he's got his arms hooked with Roman's, planting him with Dirty Deeds before he rolls him over, covering him for the three count, and Dean fucking did it. Dean is the World Heavyweight Champion.

Seth chokes on a hiccuped breath, can barely contain his emotions at the raw look on Dean's face when he's handed the title belt, like it's taking everything in him not to cry, and Seth wouldn't blame him one bit if he did. This is it, this is everything Dean's worked half his life for, and to think that only months ago the possibility of it never happening for him was almost a reality, has has all the reason in the world to cry tears of absolute joy at overcoming all the obstacles and adversity he faced.

Between one blink and the next, Dean is there, standing in front ofhim, cocky little grin on his face, title thrown over his shoulder.

"You're fuckin' insane," Seth says with a grin, laughing and shaking his head.

"They don't call me the lunatic fringe for nothin'," Dean replies, and before Seth can even formulate a response, Dean is pulling Seth in against him, the belt squished between them, and Seth holds on tight to Dean, overwhelmed with emotion.

Fuck, he's so goddamn proud, and he says as much when he pulls away, his hands on either side of Dean's face, not giving a damn that they're in front of thousands, millions, so in love with the man in front of him.

Dean rests their foreheads together, and Seth ignore the way Dean's sweat wets his skin. "Meet me in back in ten," Dean says into Seth's ear before he pulls back, grinning again.

Seth nods, grinning back in response. "You got it." Dean looks like he's about to head back into the ring, but Seth stops him with a hand on his forearm. "One more thing." He gets his hands back on Dean's face, thumbs brushing the flushed apples of Dean's cheeks, and he kisses him, a quick press of lips, right there in front of everyone, ignoring the flush on his own cheeks at the catcalls and whistles that seem to echo around the arena. "Ten minutes."

Seth races through the arena to the backstage, back in Dean's locker room in five. Dean strolls in a few minutes later, looking down at the title in his hands like he's expecting it to be ripped away any minute now. It makes Seth's heart hurt a little that Dean still doesn't feel deserving of the title, never mind the fact that he's worked his ass off for it, has put in all the hours, the blood, the sweat, the tears, deserves it more than probably almost anyone else.

"So," Seth says, smirking at the startled look on Dean's face, as though Dean forgot Seth was waiting for him, "what now, Mr. World Heavyweight Champion?"

Dean shakes his head, sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, and Seth's up on and his feet, crossing the small distance to get to Dean, pulling Dean into a tight embrace. He smooths his hands up and down Dean's back, settles on at the nape of Dean's neck. There's the sound of wet snuffling in his ear, and Seth swallows roughly, holding Dean that much tighter.

He can do this, he can give Dean this moment to break apart in his arms before he helps put him back together.

"You did it," Seth whispers, lips moving against the skin of Dean's neck. "You did it, babe."

Dean nods, though Seth feels it more than he sees it, Dean's hair tickling along his skin.

"World Heavyweight Championship," Seth says, a little in awe, fond and reverent. "That's all you, Dean, you did that, you went out there tonight, and you earned that. Everything you've worked for, everything you've given and done for this industry, you deserve it, and I am so goddamn proud of you."

Dean's eyes are red when he pulls back, and Seth wipes away a stray tear with the pad of his thumb. "How did I get so lucky? What did I do to deserve you?"

Seth shrugs, blushes, because he feels like that every single day, and he doesn't think it's a feeling that will ever stop.

"Marry me," Dean says, quick and sudden, and Seth's heart stops, mouth gone dry. "I wanted—I want." He stops, shakes his head, backing away and going over to his gym bag, setting the title down on a chair before he starts digging through it for a minute, returning and dropping down to one knee before Seth can even begin to get his bearings. "I know I'm not perfect, not by any means, and neither are you, but I don't expect you to be. I don't want you to be, for that matter, because the way you are, you are perfect __for me__. I don't want to spout all those bullshit cliches you always hear, but I mean it when I say I didn't know what I was missing until you walked into my life, and I never want to have to spend another day without you. So, Seth Rollins, will you marry me?"

Dean flips open the ring box in his hand, and nestled there is a simple gold band, a swirl of what he thinks may be platinum running through the middle. It's perfect, and Seth chokes on a sob as he nods his head, pushes out a croaky, "Yes," his hand shaking as Dean takes it and slips the ring onto his finger, almost too quick for Seth to catch sight of the engraving on the inside. "Hey, wait," he says, "what's it say on the inside?"

"Oh," Dean says, his cheeks going a little pink. "Had the date of our first date inscribed on the inside."

Seth grins, can't help it. His boyfriend, his __fiance__ , is fucking perfect. "When did you get that done?" he asks, looking down in amazement at how well the ring fits, how good it looks on his finger.

"Had Roman do it actually," Dean says, shrugging. "That's what he wanted to talk about earlier."

Makes sense. Dean wouldn't have had time to do it himself since they're almost always together.

"How he's feeling about the match?" Seth asks, relaxing back against Dean's chest when Dean pulls him in, Dean's chin resting on Seth's shoulder.

"He lost, so probably not too good, but, y'know, he knows it's all business, not personal. As a wrestler, he's probably pretty pissed, but as my best friend, I'd say he's proud that I finally won it."

Seth hums softly, enjoying the feeling of being in Dean's embrace. "So, what do you wanna do now, Mr. Champion?"

"Kinda just wanna go home with you," Dean says, and Seth's never heard anything sound so good.

* * *

The next morning, Seth almost breaks the internet.

He takes a picture of his left hand, Dean's beneath it, resting against Dean's chest, a sliver of the front plate of the title belt edging its way into the frame, and he posts it to Instagram, Twitter, his Facebook, and he doesn't bother adding any text to it, letting the picture speak for itself.

It's all over the media outlets by lunchtime, and Seth can't help but laugh, grinning at the look on Dean's face as his phone continues to ring.

"You should probably get that," Seth says with a grin, laughing even harder at the murderous look Dean sends him.

"I'd rather take a chainsaw to the head again," Dean says, silencing his phone.

"Good thing you won't have to," Seth replies, "Mr. World Heavyweight Champion." Yeah, Seth's never going to get tired of calling him that, loving how smoothly it rolls off his tongue.

From the grin on Dean's face, he's never going to get tired of hearing it.

It's been quite a road to get to where they are, filled with ups and downs, twists and turns, but they're better and stronger for it all.

Sometimes, love might not be enough, and sometimes, sometimes you get lucky and it's everything.

Seth and Dean, together, they'll always find a way.

* * *

One more time to say  
I love you always  
And keeping faith  
Letting love find a way  
-The Used, "Find A Way"


End file.
